


Alchemist's Treasure

by Practicalsome



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alchemist Zuko, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Morally Grey Aang, Nice Is Not Good, Smart!Zuko, good is not nice, season 1 divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26167969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Practicalsome/pseuds/Practicalsome
Summary: Zuko was not a firebending prodigy like Azula, but he was a prodigy nonetheless. After Ursa left, Zuko embraced his skill at alchemy and was all but raised by wise men and women who taught him what years in the palace had not. Critical thinking.When this newly developed skill left him burned, banished, and sent to capture the Avatar, Zuko took it as an opportunity to advance his studies. Then everything changed when the Avatar returned. And a stupidly handsome, or maybe just stupid, water tribe boy is left behind when the Avatar escaped.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 339





	1. The Boy in the Iceburg

The first thing Zuko noticed the day the Avatar returned, was that one of his experiments had undergone a violent reaction. The second thing he noticed was that this had become such a common occurrence that he had taken care of the problem before entirely waking up. Not the best idea when experimenting with flammable material. 

“By Agni’s wrath,” he swore, fully awake. Laying his hand on a burning hot metal flask was an efficient way to wake up. If not one he would choose.

The night before Zuko had been experimenting with sulfur and saltpeter, in an attempt to make his own fireworks for the approaching equinox. It turned out that leaving the two ingredients over an open flame overnight caused a fountain of sparks to fizz up once they became overheated around dawn. The poor flask had been overheated for so long it was unusable. 

“Unless I can overheat the mixture myself I just wasted the last of my supply on something completely useless,” he groused to Iroh that morning. The complaining was mostly an act, Zuko was already planning how to use the sparking power on his next trip ashore. If he reduced the amount of charcoal in it, he might be able to sustain the sparks longer. 

On shore, he could find a candle maker to mix the powder into the wick at the right places, he could set up his meditation candles to throw sparks to let him know how long he’d been sitting there. 

“Nothing is useless, Prince Zuko, one must only find the proper use for it,” Iroh said, arm moving to encompass the aged warship the Fire Lord had seen fit to give his son.

“Our cook is useless,” Zuko said, “When I return home, I will never eat another piece of dried fish.” 

Iroh flinched at the arrogant mask that was all he and the crew saw of his Nephew. “If you would allow us to return to warmer waters, we would have more flavorful meals,” he said, “How much longer do you intend to spend searching the South Pole?”

Behind Iroh, Cook Hiroshi relaxed, reassured that the respected general did not consider him at fault for the subpar meals. In all honesty, Zuko did not either. He had chosen the South Pole precisely because access to goods, including food and letters, was so hard to find.

It wouldn’t do for Father to learn Zuko had as much intention of capturing the Avatar as he did eating a live eel. He’d been careful so far, but his father’s spy was asking why Zuko hid in his cabin all day. “As long I want to,” Zuko said, the careless selfishness of the words coming with easy practice.

As if thinking of the spy had called the man, a crewman approached. Crewman Ma was fond of always approaching him from his bad side, not knowing that the only damage to his peripheral vision was color perception. This habit had led Zuko to investigate him once it became apparent he was everything the prince could want otherwise. After all, spies aren’t worth dirt when they aren't included.

“Prince Zuko, a problem with our food stores was discovered this morning. May I ask what you wish us to do?” Crewman Ma said. He stood at perfect attention, as if awaiting his prince’s wisdom.

That had been happening a lot recently, Crewman Ma making his displeasure over being stuck at the south pole known in ways that could not be traced back to him. Once the lastest account was over, Zuko stood up, ready to throw the fit expected of a spoiled prince. 

Of course, getting out of the Fire Nation had a cost beyond the humiliatingly vapid act. Half his face burnt off and trapped on a ship with a crew that resented him. And mornings stuck listening to the spy report that a barrel of previously good supplies had been found spoiled this morning when the cooks went to make breakfast.

“What kind of fool are you? I checked the stocks not two days ago, and here you are telling me they’ve gone off. Until you can find me who’s responsible you will be in charge of cleaning up after meals.” It was a delicate balance, finding a way to annoy the man without outright blaming Ma for what he had done. 

“Maybe that will encourage you to keep a better eye on the supplies.” And make you less likely to mess with them again Zuko finished the sentence silently.

Of course, that was the cue for Iroh to step in. “Prince Zuko, think again please, this man has done nothing wrong.” There was a pause right before Iroh said nothing wrong, a tell that Zuko had only picked up on because they lived in such close quarters. Iroh knew what was going on, but didn’t trust Zuko enough to tell him probably out of fear for what Zuko might have done in return. There was a reason Zuko didn’t trust anyone other than himself.

“Well, this way he’ll have a reason to make sure nothing goes wrong again,” Zuko said. By Agni, Iroh had to take away his small victories didn’t he.

...AlchemyAlchemyAlchemyAlchemyAlchemyAlchemyAlchemyAlchemy...

His earlier excitement over the sparking powder forgotten, the rest of the morning was spent in the sluggish monotony of firebending. 

“I am ready for the advanced set, Uncle,” Zuko said. It was almost true, too. 

“Prince Zuko, you must be able to summon fully powered flames for the entire set of forms before I will teach you more,” Iroh said, sipping his ever present cup of tea. 

“You said I had the movements down perfectly, teach me the next set,” Zuko demanded. He hadn't had to fake the snap in his voice.

“No, Prince Zuko, you must learn to trust the fire, or else you could be hurt by the advance forms,” Iroh said. It was the same piece of advice as he had given for the past three years. For all of Zuko’s understanding of firebending, he had yet to manage the sweeping sheets of flame that every soldier in the nation could manage.

“I can’t,” Zuko said. He punctuated his statement by punching fire at the sky, it faded before so much as drawing level with the ship’s command tower. Heat, range, and size, of the three he could only manage two.

“Yes you can. Sit down, focus on your breathing,” Iroh said, “By the time I return, I expect you will be breathing in time with your heartbeat.”

He paused after rising, “I will be back in a minute.” Iroh left, and Zuko moved to sit in the middle of the deck.

Without Iroh, the crew was more vocal than ever. “Shameful, for a nephew to treat his uncle that way,” said one, far enough away that even Zuko keen hearing could not tell who was speaking.

“If he doesn’t get us out of southern waters soon, I might just try my luck swimming home,” another said. Zuko privately agreed, they had run out of spices a week ago, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fresh fruit.

“Brat is going to get a nasty surprise one day, once the Fire Lord stops even pretending to care,” another voice added. The speaker had no way of knowing Zuko could hear him. Indeed, many of the crew assumed the prince had deafened himself with how much he yelled. 

“Shut it,” a last voice said, familiar enough for Zuko to open his eyes. Captain Jee had emerged from the command tower to enjoy the sunshine for a few minutes, until the chill wind sent the firebender hurrying back to the warmth inside.

Zuko stood up, ignoring the way each crewman seemed to draw back a few steps. And then he stopped acting, as he considered one of the few interactions with his crew he enjoyed. 

Unfortunately, the crew did not enjoy it as such. And had developed a premonition for when he was about to request a sparring partner.

“Would you like a sparring partner?” Captain Jee asked, right on cue. The older firebender was relaxed, as if he had not volunteer to be beaten across the deck and back for several hours. The men around them stopped retreating.

For a moment Zuko considered requesting Crewman Ma, but conceded that the satisfaction of punching the man in the face would not be worth the ill will from the man who reported to the Fire Lord.

“Yes, thank you,” Zuko said, the courtesy slipping out as he turned to face the man. For all his demotion to prince-minder, the man was unflinchingly honest in his action. The two may have been related, Zuko reflected. 

Conversation over, Captain Jee leapt forward, fists blurring forward as he attempted to land several blows along Zuko’s side. Zuko moved back into a guarding stance, letting Jee come close, only to whirl around, a kick aimed at the man’s head. 

He dodged, and attacked. Zuko blocked with a sweep of his forearm, using the limb to pull Captain Jee closer. And into his fist.  
But Jee had anticipated the attack, and was chopping at Zuko’s throat, forcing him to let go, or risk his airways.

“No fire, my prince?” Jee asked, in a way that Zuko knew was mocking him, even if he could not say why. This was friendly mocking though, like the way Azula had done, before she learned he was in the way of her throne.

“No speed, captain?” Zuko returned. It was then their spar caught on fire.

Indeed, Captain Jee summoned twin fire daggers, slashing them at Zuko in response. Zuko barked out a laugh, ignoring how the crewmen gaped at the sound. 

He was good at fire darts, very good. But fire darts did little against armor. The spray of darts forced Jee back for a few seconds, and he was already on the attack as Zuko reached into a pocket sewn into his vest. Palming the tiny package inside, Zuko was immediately on the defensive.

Ducking one dagger and body slamming Jee into stumbling past him. That was going to bruise. Zuko pressed his advantage, an open handed fireblast directed at the man. The package was burnt to ashes, the flammable contents adding enough power to Zuko’s bending that he sent Jee slamming against the deck's railing.

Jee coughed as he clambered to his feet, “What was that, your highness?” 

Zuko said nothing, relaxing as Jee checked his armor. The good sized scrape along the back had several crewmen openly wincing. 

While Zuko had always lacked the powerful flames of the royal line, If he had the right supplies he could have easily beaten even Azula in a fight. And the past few years had offered plenty of practice for hiding such cheats. 

“Bring your hands up, Prince Zuko,” said Iroh, his voice approach from behind Zuko. “Never relax your guard until the fight is over.”

Zuko turned to glare at Iroh, aborting halfway through. He had taken far longer than the promised minute. And...

...What was Uncle doing with a plate of dried leaves before the sun had reached its peak? And where did he find them in the middle of the South Pole?

“Uncle, are you trying to make yourself sick?” The corner of Zuko’s mouth jerked downwards, beyond his control. 

“No, Prince Zuko, why would you say that?” Iroh asked, a barely hidden smile like that of a smug dragon. Jee’s armor squeaked in the background with silent laughter. It had been beaten up over the years to the point where every movement made some sound. 

“Because you are about to eat more firemint than the Fire Sages eat in an entire year.” Zuko stalked over to join his uncle.

“I’m not about to eat it, that would be dangerous. I’m trying to determine how much to add for the perfect cup of tea.” Iroh said, as if attempting to brew a tea from the hallucinatory leaves was not worth questioning.

“And how do you propose to-” 

A pillar of light appeared against the horizon, a beacon that Zuko would have no choice but to follow. Only the master of all elements could create such a thing. 

May Agni turn his face from the Avatar, his family, and the morons responsible for this mess, Zuko cursed silently. Now he had to go through the motions of catching the Avatar when he could be experimenting with flame resistant lotion or turning iron into fool’s gold.

“Set a course for the light. The Avatar has returned.” Zuko commanded, and he could see every crewman perk up as the chance of getting away from the cold and dark of the South Pole appeared. They were going to kill him when he let the Avatar escape. If the Avatar didn’t beat them to it.

“Prince Zuko, why don’t you have a nice cup of tea–to settle your chi–before we get there?” Iroh asked, nudging forward a blend that Zuko recognised as a pain reliever. Iroh had prepared it often enough after spars that no one on the ship questioned how he could make it appear out of nowhere. The Dragon of the West had his ways.

“I don’t need to settle my chi,” Zuko exploded, flickers of flame coming out of his fingers. It felt wrong to yell at Iroh, but mixing a painkiller he didn’t know with the stronger one he would probably have to take if he survived facing the avatar was dangerous. And telling the whole ship he was preparing to be injured wasn’t worth suggesting.

“Prince Zuko, please, it would make me feel better.” Iroh tried, causing Zuko to wish, not for the first time, that he could trust Iroh enough to tell him everything. But he couldn’t forget the past.

“I’m not a child in need of assistance, don’t act as if you know what is best for me,” the sixteen-year-old spat, storming towards his cabin. That should help the crew accept his impending failure. Nothing like a reminder that their commander was a child to lower expectations.

After three years on a ship with Zuko, the crew had been trained to avoid his room at all costs. It was a lesson Zuko had enthusiastically kept up. Now it ensured that there was no one to hear him when he muttered to himself. “I refuse to let a coward kill me. I refuse to let uncle go through that again.”

Vows made, Zuko opened the trunk at the end of his bed, vials and packets neatly laid out above his raw ingredients. 

There was a barely audible boom in the distance. Pretending he hadn’t heard the prediction of death and destruction, Zuko began to squirrel the bags away in pockets and under belts and around the edges of his boots.


	2. The Avatar Returns

From the moment Zuko had been exiled, he knew it had been intended as a death sentence. Abandoning a Prince of the Fire Nation without support, in the middle of people at war with the Fire Nation, with orders to fight the Avatar could be nothing else.

No one had seen the avatar in over a hundred years, which meant he would be fighting an old master who knew airbending. No one else alive had seen airbending, and Zuko was a known failure at firebending. It wouldn’t have taken that long to realize, even without Azula’s taunting.

There was a barely-there knock at the door. Tucking the last of his concoctions up his sleeve, Zuko allowed his visitor entrance.

It was Captain Jee. 

Rather than complaining about the late arrival, Zuko stepped back, shoving one of his older experiments out of sight. No need to explain why he was testing how hot a fire needed to be to melt Fire Nation armor.

“Come in, Captain, I was just about to start.” The man nodded, and moved to pick up the shoulder pad, a huge piece that took two people to buckle properly. It was a tiny way for Zuko to show humility by helping rather than demanding another crewman come, and one that he would not have dared to do in the Fire Nation.

“The Avatar has been spotted,” Jee said as he was looking around for the helmet. Zuko pulled it out from under a prototype catapult he had been playing with, brushing off the gathered bits of lint. 

“What can you tell me about him?” Zuko asked, knowing that he was giving himself away, but that was something he would only regret if he lived. It was hard to imagine an Avatar raised by people who had lost their waterbenders to raids would offer mercy. Not if he or she had evaded detecting for all this time.

“He’s wearing airbender colors, was able to take a long fall just fine, and sent up a firework like he wanted us to come find him.” There was concern in Jee’s voice, and for once it didn’t grate on Zuko. They both knew that Zuko’s chances of survival had dropped if the Avatar was looking for a fight. 

“You’re sure he was wearing airbending colors?” Zuko asked, lifting his arms so Jee could fasten his breastplate.

“Yes, my prince,” Jee said. “Why does it matter?”

“The water tribes lack the necessary dyes, the Avatar is well traveled and has likely completed his training. And that’s another problem—he identifies as an airbender,” Zuko said, gesturing towards a scroll on water tribe customs.

“Could he be the original Lost Avatar?” Jee asked. Avatars were as much spirit as mortal, many had been documented to live as long as two hundred years in good health.

“What would a master air bender be doing in the southern water tribe?” Zuko asked, closing several boxes before the captain could see just how much powder he had gone through. 

Jee shrugged. “There was a water tribe girl with him, my prince,” Jee said. Zuko shuddered at the thought, that meant the village was supporting the Avatar. That meant this could turn into a battle, not a fight.

“A daughter?” he asked, looking up. If the Avatar had let the world fall apart so he could play at love, Zuko might have to be more diligent in hunting the Avatar. 

Jee didn’t quite look up from where he was kneeling to buckle Zuko’s greaves. “We think that or a lover.”

“Well, that’s even worse,” Zuko said, voice taking on a whining tone. 

Jee had spent a month training with one of Zuko’s teachers, and had heard a lot worse from his fellow student. He straightened Zuko’s armor with a sharp jerk that effectively cut the complaints short. Zuko’s balance was reliable in a fight, not so much when it came to navigating the treacherous floors of his room. 

He landed on the bed with an oomph. 

“I’ll have you cleaning the komodo-rhino pens for that,” Zuko said, spitting out a mouthful of fluffy blanket.

“Then who would do your shopping?” Jee asked, looking pointedly at the nearly empty envelope of wolfbear claw he’d found for Zuko at the last port. 

Fully dressed, Zuko pointed at the drab green robes crumpled on his floor. He’d found everything to be cheaper when he bought it as an earth nation refugee. 

“You hate shopping,” Jee said, getting the last word as he left the room. 

Five minutes later, Zuko followed. He headed up to the deck, intent on finding Iroh. 

...AlchemyAlchemyAlchemy...

Crewman Ma was hovering alongside Iroh, a good way to gain information on how determined the prince was to return to the Fire Nation. 

For a moment Zuko wondered if it would be better to accidentally leave him behind when they retreated, but there would always be another crewman looking for a bit of extra money, and a grudge against an idiot prince. 

“The village might turn against us, tell the men to be on guard. I will challenge the Avatar myself.” That sounded suitably foolish, and would hopefully keep Iroh free to save Zuko if -no, when it became necessary.

Before Iroh could agree there was a jolt as the ship began to break ice. While ordinarily Zuko would oppose destroying a village, this village was likely hostile, and the fields of ice benefited a waterbender far more than a firebender. Better to keep the fight inside the village, where he could hide.

As the ship continued, Zuko, along with every officer on deck, winced at each tortured scrape of the ship, as the no longer produced keel was tested against the arctic ice. They probably would not sink, but the trip could easily see them sinking in debt if the Fire Lord decided to end his funding.

As the front of the ship lowered, Zuko took what could be one of his last breaths. If it was, he would ensure the Avatar got his fair share of pain as well. Zuko wasn’t just a firebender, he was an alchemist. And angering alchemists was a well documented path to disaster.

With just enough time to determine that none of the people present were wearing airbender clothing, Zuko was forced to fend off an attack. A water tribe boy, around Zuko’s age was rushing towards him with a club held high. 

A hard kick knocked the club out of his hand, while a careful blow to his shoulder sent him headfirst into a pile of snow. He would be fine, if a little sore when swinging the weapon again. 

If Zuko were the Avatar he would have sent in the boy as a distraction, and then popped out of his hiding place to grab the leader and force the rest of Zuko’s men to retreat. When no such thing happened, Zuko turned back to the villagers.

“Where’s the Avatar? I know you’re hiding him.” 

Zuko had felt like something was wrong from the moment a boy with no skill had attacked, but this was beyond that. The villagers all looked confused, and on closer inspection, where all women and children. Not the kind of people who would be working with the Avatar.

“The Airbe-” Zuko was cut off by a yell, as the water tribe boy rushed him again, crewmembers doing nothing to stop him. Deciding to cancel their shore leave for the next six months, Zuko turned and tripped the kid. 

He went flying, but slightly redeemed himself in Zuko’s eyes by recovering the moment he hit the ground. It was enough that the barely there flames Zuko sent after him were too slow to catch him. Even if they had, the flames were barely more than a flash and wouldn’t even warm his skin.

And that was another weapon flying towards his head. Zuko dodged again, undecided on whether he should smile or scowl at how the other boy hadn’t given up when clearly outmatched. 

As evidenced by the spear being aimed at his middle.

This was not how Zuko had anticipated his day going, but fighting an untrained boy was far better than being killed by the Avatar. Besides the boy was handsome in a way that was sorely missing on his ship. If all the water tribes were that beautiful then he could see why the Avatar would––Zuko cut that thought off with a wince that was only half at the abominable fighting style of the other teen.

Knocking the boy backwards with his own spear might not have been the most mature thing to do, but it was hilarious to see his reaction. The water tribe boy looked torn between being angry and being jealous, which made him even more determined.

Before Zuko had a chance to decide his next move, the boy began to smile, and something hard hit the back of his helmet, knocking him off balance. He sprawled forward, moving into a roll at the last second as the boy swung a club where he had landed. 

“Where did you find the club,” Zuko muttered, not loud enough to be heard. Behind him, a small child laughed and cheered the water tribe boy on.

From his new perspective with his back to the village gate, he saw the offending projectile was the thrown weapon he had dodged earlier, which had somehow returned. Had it been any other situation, Zuko would have ended the fight and found a way to learn how it worked. As it was, he had to find a way to undeniably beat the boy, without injuring him, before he was too exhausted to bend. 

It was cold, and two year old armor was tight. No breath, no bending, it was reasonable.

Twin daggers of flame appeared in his hands, helped along by a clear paste, one he’d taken to calling firefuel, that relieved some of the strain. The result was daggers of mostly solid heat that could do no more damage than a fist.. In an event eerily similar to before, Zuko was hit from behind, legs flying out from under him. Had he not been wearing armor, he would have dislocated a knee.

Landing face down in front of his men was unpleasant, but the exchange between the boy who’d just tried to run him over with a penguin and the villagers was both better and worse. Better because the water tribe boy––Sokka he’d been called––had thanked the new boy for coming, and the knowledge that the boy hadn’t expected to beat him, instead only trying to delay him helped his ego recover. 

The bad news was that the boy was wearing airbender colors. Likely the Avatar’s son. And if it turned out airbenders were coming back, Zuko knew who’d be blamed for it. The Fire Lord couldn’t be forced to spare his life twice.

Then the boy–Aang?–turned, and the whole day just went to Koh in a handbasket. “Looking for me?” Aang asked, a combination of wind and snow blowing past Zuko and his men.

“You’re the Avatar? But you’re just a child.” Zuko asked, mentally adding up ages and avatar cycles. The spirits must have done something, he finally decided, when the numbers refused to make sense.

“You’re just a teenager,” the boy responded, completely missing the point. Then again, logic and the Avatar historically didn’t mix well and he’d seen the boy wield both snow and wind so maybe Zuko was the one missing the point. 

With that sad thought echoing in his mind, Zuko attacked, using the bare minimum flame possible until he was close enough to use one of the concoctions hidden up his sleeve. The Avatar didn’t even bother to dissipate it, merely blocking it with his staff.

Apropos of nothing, the Avatar paused. “If I go with you, do you promise to leave everyone alone?” 

For one horrible second, Zuko’s brain froze with surprise. Had the Avatar attacked then, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Why would the Avatar surrender?

Then Zuko’s brain began working again and he realized it didn’t matter. The Avatar was an airbender, who had somehow found a traditional airstaff. He probably prescribed to the airbender’s philosophy. Therefore, Aang would only honor the surrender as long as he directly benefited from it. Once that grace period ended, he would escape and Zuko would have a change to adjust his plans for avoiding capturing the Avatar.

Zuko nodded, and two of his crew grabbed the Avatar, relieving him off his weapon. As he made his way up the ramp, Zuko saw Crewman Ma waiting just out of sight of the villagers.

“Head a course for the fire nation, I'm going home.” That should neatly absolve him from any doubt of his loyalty and defend against blame later, after the inevitable escape.

...AlchemyAlchemyAlchemy...

Later, to help the escape, he made sure the Airbender knew where his staff was being stored before sending him to be locked in a cell. Zuko had worried that one of the crew would notice that they were using rope on the master of all four elements, but the Avatar’s promise of surrender had made the very act of tying him up seem of dubious honor. All the better for when he escaped.

Zuko wasn’t disappointed. Before he’d even had a chance to light his meditation candles, the Avatar was rushing into Captain Jee’s room, hands free. (Was it petty to bring the destruction to Jee? Yes, but Zuko had never claimed to be otherwise.) It was time to have a talk with the Avatar, and hopefully drop some big hints as to where he was heading next so the Avatar would stay far away.

“I underestimated you, it won’t happen again,” Zuko offered, a good reason to avoid him in the future. The Avatar showed no signs of responding, so Zuko sent a quick burst of flames, enough to give anyone with sense the message they should take the staff and run. 

The Avatar didn’t have any sense because immediately trapped himself in a corner, and had Zuko been trying to capture him a wall of flames would have ended the fight there. From there they exchanged a few volleys, Zuko when he was wrapped in a hanging scroll not a minute into the fight. The Avatar was playing with him.

As Zuko started to disengage from the fight, the idiot having ignored the door behind him for the past few minutes, the mattress hit him, forcing him against the wall. And then with another wave of the staff, against the ceiling. By the time he was done checking for a concussion, the Avatar was gone.

Leaving behind the very expensive map that showed Zuko’s planned route and favored ports. With a few words that would have had Iroh frowning, Zuko staggered to his feet to see what else the Avatar planned to disrupt before he flew off.

Which meant he arrived just in time to see Captain Jee leap off the main tower to keep the Avatar from flying away. Nearly killing himself in the process. The Avatar was up again before Jee figured out which way was up.

As the two tumbled to the deck, Zuko reconsidered his stance on the Avatar. While he refused to kill a child, he would not let him hurt Jee. 

With an angry roar that he rarely used when not acting the spoiled prince, Zuko scrambled down to the deck and let loose a blast of fire that forcefully pushed the Avatar to the edge of the boat. 

The airbender immediately bounced back and started to move across the deck, bursts of wind sending marines clanging to the ground. And then the Avatar paused. And looked between Zuko and Captain Jee, turning his neck so fast it would have been comical in better circumstances. In better circumstances the Avatar would have paused on Zuko, instead of sinking into a guarding stance facing Jee.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, a sky bison appeared on the horizon and everyone looked up. Except for Jee, who sent a second plume of flame at the Avatar. One that knocked him overboard, into arctic waters.

“Aaaaaannnnnggg,” a girl’s voice screamed, and the Avatar rose from the water, eyes glowing white.

He landed on the deck, and with a wave of his hand, sent a wave of water across the deck. Nine men were swept overboard, including Zuko. Only two of them were able to catch themselves on rails or trailing ropes. 

Zuko landed on the anchor, base of his palms shredded by the accumulated barnacles. The last traces of the firefuel burned as he began to haul himself up, towards the sound of fighting. He heard a shout, and renewed his efforts, wondering where Iroh was all this time.

As Zuko reached for Avatar’s staff to lever himself on deck, it moved. Sokka looked down at Zuko with surprise, which turned into what could not properly be called a smile when he realized the prince was too busy hanging on to firebend. 

Being poked by a stick was never fun, Zuko mused, but when you were unable to do anything about it was another thing entirely. Lucky he could do something about it.

With a grunt, Zuko released one hand to pull out a small bottle. Inside was a type of rubber that dried upon exposure to air and melted when exposed to heat. In the arctic air, he had to heat it for a perilous moment before he could toss it, catching Sokka’s foot squarely. His free hand latched onto the ship’s railing, and he was already pulling, palms burning in warning.

In the time it took Zuko to drag himself onto the deck, Sokka had thrown the Avatar’s staff back to the Avatar, who was no longer in the Avatar State, and pulled his foot loose, leaving his boot behind.

Zuko turned his attention to the center of the fight, keeping an eye on what was happening. He saw a water tribe girl, the one who had heralded the Avatar State, freeze her brother’s feet to the deck. It was a day for repeated patterns it seemed. Zuko getting attacked from behind and Sokka getting stuck to the deck. 

And then the waterbender froze three of his men and Zuko forgot about not provoking the Avatar. He was up and running before the ice had finished forming, tugging a weighted paper envelope out of his sleeve and throwing it between the unwelcome intruders and himself. 

“Get back,” Zuko ordered his crew, and sent a tiny dart of fire across the distance. The envelope, filled with a powder he’d refined for months, exploded, and the sky bison took off, the blast of air sending those not already unbalanced by the explosion to the floor.

After ensuring that the sky bison wasn’t likely to stop until it hit the Earth Kingdom, Zuko turned his attention to more important matters. “Firebenders, start unfreezing these men, everyone else, eight men went overboard, I want them all found.” Or at least their bodies found was the unspoken part. Arctic water and armor would have killed most of his men by now. 

Iroh appeared, wordlessly taking over the search party while Zuko turned his attention to the three frozen men. Zuko nodded at him, unwilling to ask what had kept his uncle.

Of the three men frozen, only two had survived, the third’s nose and mouth was coated in ice. The other two would pull through, if only able to work light duty for the following weeks. Which was unfortunate because only four had been rescued from the water. Five more minutes and he would give the order to start searching for bodies.

There was a scraping sound coming from behind him, Zuko noticed, and he turned just in case there was another sneak attack for the day. Instead he found Sokka, chipping away at the ice encasing his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Zuko had a headache coming on, he could sense it. None of the crew had approached the water tribe boy, and Zuko couldn’t blame them. He would have avoided the boy swinging around a sharp blade if he could.

“You. Stop it. Give me your weapon.” Zuko said, already knowing it wouldn’t work. Sokka had fought him when clearly outmatched once before. 

“No. Let me go,” Sokka said, ignoring the fact that Zuko wasn’t actually doing anything. Zuko wanted to sigh. Instead he dropped his voice so the words wouldn’t carry. It wouldn’t do for Crewman Ma to find out he was using logic.

“Listen carefully, unless you want to jump overboard, there’s nowhere you can go. You’re stuck here, and your friends just killed my men. I suggest you cooperate because you’re not going to be very popular on board no matter what you do. Don’t give my men a reason to use you to avenge their friends.” Zuko hoped the other teen would understand, he didn’t want to have to fight with the rest of his crew, not when they were already going to be short handed.

For all that he had been raised in a tiny village with no one else his age, Sokka was unexpectedly quick on the uptake. Then again, the tribes were known for feuding in the summer months while working together to survive come winter. He might have more social awareness than the average young male.

Sokka handed over the weapon, careful not to make any sudden movements. His hands twitched once he passed it over, like he wanted to snatch it back. If Zuko’s fumbled attempt to find a way to hold the thing without slicing his palm open amused him, he gave no sign.

“Lace your fingers together behind your head and wait there; I’ll deal with you once everything else is sorted.” Regretting his choice of words, Zuko left to check on the wounded. Growing up in the Fire Nation court had a tendency to make one speak as if making veiled threats every time he spoke, he’d found. 

“Five dead, five nearly frozen, two missing toes, and a lost finger,” Captain Jee reported the moment Zuko reached him. The two who’d survived being frozen had been freed, the body left so the firepower could be put to better use warming those who’d faced the water instead.

“I saw eight go overboard, what happened to the last one?” Zuko asked, the words ‘five dead’ repeating over and over again. 

“Crewman Huan caught the edge of the ship before she hit the water. Cut up her palms a bit, but otherwise healthy. We are currently heating as much water as we can right now, if you would help?” The last part was a question, royalty working with their hands being frowned upon by most. If Zuko did so, Crewman Ma would likely notice the change.

“Try without me first, if you need me send someone.” They would probably send for Iroh first, the master bender could heat every drop of water on the ship if he were so inclined. 

“Yes, my prince,” Jee replied. There was a loud smack, followed by a yell. Zuko could see Jee’s eyes narrow as he turned, slow as humanly possible. 

Zuko did the same, finding an angry crewman standing above Sokka. There was a bruise forming along the top of Sokka’s cheek as he lay in the puddle of cold water. His feet were still pinned to the deck by ice.

Zuko noted that he hadn’t tried to fight back, that was something at least. Not enough to make up for the pain of losing men who had followed him, however begrudgingly.

“What are you doing?” Captain Jee demanded, Sokka having the good sense to bring his hands back behind his head in the sign of surrender again. “I told you to fetch blankets not punch a boy who’s not doing anything.”

“I only gave him what he deserved,” the crewman answered. 

“Out of the three of them, he is the one who didn’t kill anyone,” Jee said, but it was half hearted at best. Zuko’s forehead throbbed at that. He ignored it.

“Save your vengeance for the Avatar,” Zuko told the crewman, glaring at Sokka when he looked like he was about to talk. 

Sokka wasn’t at fault, and the girl hadn’t seemed like she knew what she was doing. Zuko would believe that Sokka hadn’t expected death until given reason not to. The way he fought was that of a boy who had only played at war. A real warrior would have gone for his eyes, not poked him in the forehead. That didn’t mean Zuko had to like him.

With his usual perfect timing, Iroh chose that moment to appear. Leaving the boy behind, and sending the crewman after the blankets again, order was once again restored. Zuko went back to giving orders, and if he wasn’t yelling, well, he’d just seen what should have been his first deadly battle. That was something every Fire Nation general could understand.  
Zuko stood there, watching as the bodies were carried away and the wounded were treated. His own palms stung, and he could feel the beginnings of a bruise start to grow across his abdomen. But his own injuries could wait, there were other problems for Zuko to solve.

Zuko studied Sokka’s weapon, looking for what might have caused it to return to the thrower, before he sighed and tucked it away, in a pocket made by the space between his armor and the leather beneath.

“There’s no one to spare to watch him. Between caring for the wounded and running the ship we’ll be lucky if everyone gets enough time to sleep.” Iroh summed up, looking at the water tribe boy. Zuko was sure that the renowned general would be taking on a few more duties than strictly proper.

Zuko growled, low enough that Iroh might not have heard it. He could help his men, but doing so would be out of character enough to raise questions. He had to act like he still thought capturing the Avatar was possible. Agni, the Avatar was alive. And an airbender. The world was doomed.

“I’m going to study where the Avatar might have gone,” Zuko excused himself, lying through his teeth. He was going to be planning the funeral ceremony and tending to his wounds, both of which revealed too much weakness to admit.

“What about the water tribe boy? Who will guard him?” Jee interrupted, glancing at Sokka. The teen was still on the floor, watching them with wide eyes. Pretty blue eyes, Zuko noticed.

“I will.” Both Iroh and Captain Jee turned to look at Zuko, who had made a point of avoiding work when it interfered with his experiments. “I want the crew to be at full muster, now that I know the Avatar has returned.” 

“But you’ll watch the boy?” Jee asked and Zuko agreed with the skepticism in his tone. The prince did not like distractions from his work. But with the hunt for the Avatar truly begun he wouldn’t have much time no matter what. “I want to question him on where the Avatar may have gone,” Zuko said. Iroh winced at his words.

“Are you sure Prince Zuko? Your cabin sees explosions on a regular frequency––without the fuel of ill intent,” Iroh finally asked. 

Zuko hadn’t thought about where he would be keeping Sokka, but after what the Avatar had done to the cell, there wasn’t much choice on the small ship. “Then that should convince him to behave. Can you handle everything else?”

The two men agreed, and Zuko went back to Sokka. Behind him he thought he heard Jee mutter something about teenagers and pretty faces. Both men laughed, but Zuko felt colder than the arctic wind merited.

In the Fire Nation, consent was as much a part of pleasure as the...other things. In what he had read of the other nations, they didn’t always agree. Zuko didn’t know how much Sokka knew, but saying anything on the subject was more likely to alarm the boy than reassure him. He’d have to hope the other either confronted him about any concerns or, better yet, didn’t even think of it.

“Hold still,” Zuko ordered, summoning a flame. Sokka promptly yelled and jerked back. “Unless you enjoy being iced to the deck, hold still,” Zuko repeated, and Sokka froze, hand grasping a nonexistent weapon as Zuko melted the ice enough to pull the other boy’s feet free. 

Sokka was still missing a boot, but the sock underneath had protected him from the ice well enough. “Get your boot and follow me,” Zuko said, finding one of the crewmen who was more hovering than helping and sending him to find a cot.

By the time Zuko was ready to go, Sokka had joined him, hands twitching as the teen tried to guess if he was allowed to put them down or not. Zuko nodded absently and turned back towards his cabin, the water tribesman following without speaking.

It wasn’t until they were alone that Sokka spoke, “What are you doing?”

“Since your friends decided to kill five of my men, I can’t spare anyone to watch you,” Zuko said, curious to see how he would respond. If the other gave a blithe reply Zuko would punch him.

“They didn’t mean to,” Sokka muttered, more to himself than Zuko. Zuko ignored him and opened his door. The mess of old and new experiments made him feel self conscious for one of the few times since he’d gotten over his scar.

“Ground rules. You need permission to leave my room, don’t attack anyone, do what I ask you to, and don’t touch anything.” Sokka’s blank stare forced self-preservation to take the forefront. Zuko refused to die because an idiot decided to poke around. “A lot of the experiments here will explode if you touch them. Do you understand?”

Sokka nodded, looking around with more interest. Zuko realized the loophole.

“Do you agree to follow these rules?”

Sokka smiled, forgetting to be afraid for the moment, “I swear on my honor as a man of the Howling Dog tribe.”

Zuko nearly laughed at the other’s audacity, but the deaths were too fresh in his mind. His voice came out sharp as a razor. “Isn’t the Howling Wolf tribe an enemy of yours? I want your oath by Tui and La.”

Sokka blinked, “What does a firebender know about the water tribes?” He had changed the subject yet again.

“More than you know about the Fire Nation. Now, your word?” At any other time, Zuko would have enjoyed the exchange of wits. Sokka must have picked up that this was not such a time.

“I swear by Tui and La that I won’t attack anyone and will do what you say so long as it’s not stupid or harmful to me.” The subtle change in meaning didn’t escape Zuko, but trying to force his conditions promised to be like holding an eel. The tighter you squeezed, the more it slipped away.

“Good enough,” Zuko decided, and led the way into his cabin. Sokka followed, noticeably shivering. The puddle of icy water he’d fallen into had soaked through everything.

“The bathroom is through that door, get out of your wet things before I have to deal with you getting sick, too.” Sokka nodded, and entered the bathroom, the lock clicking behind him. 

Zuko had just enough time to sit down and start figuring out where the supplies for a funeral were when Sokka spoke from behind the door.“Is there anything I can wear while my clothes dry?”

Zuko looked up from a page of calculations for the cost of the funeral out of his budget, “I believe I left a spare workout uniform to the left of the bathtub.”

“I’m not wearing your clothes,” came the immediate protest.

If Zuko were in a better mood or had had a different day, he might have responded differently. As it was, he responded in the way that would settle the matter quickest. “Would you rather wear the spare clothing of the men your friends killed?”

There was silence, and when the door opened Sokka was wearing the red leggings and vest Zuko usually wore to spar. Which meant a few of his less explosive powders were still tucked inside the pockets. That should probably be taken care of.

“Come here,” Zuko ordered, folding up the finished documents. He would have Iroh check them before they reached port. 

“No,” Sokka said, backpedalling towards the bathroom. By the time Zuko had fully turned to look at Sokka, the door was slammed shut and locked.

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked, swearing to Agni that if he had to break down his own door, he’d sneak off and become a cabbage merchant.

“What are you doing? You’re clearly angry about your men. Why should I trust you?” Sokka had a good point. Why should Zuko care what happened to him. Usually admiration didn’t change the way Zuko acted this much. “Besides, the Fire Nation is evil.” Anyone with average hearing would have missed the last part. 

“Most people in the Fire Nation aren't evil, and we certainly don’t value being evil,” unless they’re part of the court, “You didn’t kill anyone, or plan for that to happen. What could I want that means you shouldn’t trust me? My vengeance is owed to the Avatar,” Zuko explained, realizing he meant what he said.

The Avatar was a murderer, he should not be allowed free rein. Nor should the Fire Lord get ahold of him. If Sokka wanted no chance of Aang being captured by his father, that was fine with Zuko.

“Back home, when you go through the effort of capturing your enemy, it’s not because you want to offer them dry clothes before letting them go,” Sokka said.

“But I didn’t capture you, you trapped yourself on my ship, much to everyone’s inconvenience.” Zuko said, hearing the door open. “Trust me, as soon as I can safely leave you behind I will.”

“Leave me behind?” Sokka asked, voice rising in pitch. Zuko understood, few ships bothered to travel to the Southern Water Tribes, and the ones that did charged an exorbitant fee. Being a prisoner might even be preferable to being abandoned in the Earth Kingdom with nothing.

“I know a few ports that trade with the tribes, we will be visiting one of them within the month.” Zuko tacked on an addition, just in case Sokka started talking with the crew, “If we don’t run into the waterbender first.”

“Why would you run into Katara?” Sokka asked, voice chilly as his homeland. The Fire Nation hadn’t tried to colonize the Water Tribes for a reason; it was cold and the sun didn’t rise for months in winter.

“It is my duty to capture the Avatar,” Zuko said. Because duty could be assigned without being embraced. Duty could be ignored in favor of a higher calling.

“What did you want then?” Sokka said, keeping an arm’s length away. Zuko barely restrained his snort.

“I forgot to take the explosives out of my clothes.” Zuko took some unwarranted pleasure in watching Sokka jump and rip the vest off like it was made of spider-wasps.

“Who keeps explosives in their clothes?” Sokka demanded, holding the vest as far away from himself as humanly possible. 

“I do,” Zuko answered, taking the vest and pulling out the bottles and twists of paper that held inventions that he liked to have everywhere he went. “How does a water tribe boy who fights with a club know what explosives are?”

Sokka stopped waving his arms. “My dad taught me.”

After seeing the utter lack of men in the village, Zuko knew better than to ask. “One explosive free vest,” he announced, handing it back to Sokka, taking care not to look at the teen as he did so. 

“What about the pants?” Sokka asked.

“Clean, the vest is easier to store everything in.” Sokka shook his head slowly, but didn’t look comfortable enough to argue.

There was a knock at the door; the crewman with the cot had arrived. Zuko wondered how long he had stood outside, building up the courage to knock and risk interrupting his prince. The thought calmed his temper somewhat, a fact Zuko only felt somewhat bad about.

“Go help him,” Zuko ordered Sokka, opening the same map he’d tried to give the Avatar before he turned out to be capable of murder. The nearest port was Kyoshi Island, but they had a bad habit of killing Fire Nation folk, so the best choice was a small port a few miles east of them.

Sokka paused, hand coming up to cover the bruise another crewman had given him, before remembering the ground rules Zuko had offered and trudging over to help. Zuko felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax.

The new mattress was old, one of the dead crewmen’s. Zuko decided not to share the fact that it was a dead man’s bed. His ship was small enough that space for useless items was near nonexistent and spare mattresses took up space he didn’t have.

Zuko was finishing up plotting a course and making up reasons he ‘thought the Avatar had gone there’ when he noticed it had been quiet for far longer than necessary. Looking up, he saw Sokka hopping up and down holding his foot. The crewman beside him looked smug. Zuko sighed.

“What are you doing now?” he demanded, as Sokka jumped backwards, tripped, and fell onto the mattress. If the crewman was responsible for this, he’d have to find a way to cut it off without appearing to favor a water tribesman over his own men.

“I haven’t seen a more clumsy person since the last time General Iroh was out of tea, Sir,” the crewman answered, his smirk the honest sort, and Sokka flushed as Zuko felt himself smile. It was a small smile, barely noticeable. It was gone before it could be seen, but it had been there.

“If you knock anything in here over,” Zuko began, his tone dangerous enough that the crewman backed out of the room. One too many people had made the mistake of messing with the Prince’s stuff; the lucky ones had been thrown overboard.

Sokka was frantically nodding before he had decided what threat to use. Which was just as well. The crewman had fled, clicking the door shut behind him.

“The funeral ceremony will be tonight,” Zuko said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding promising to remain in my room. Why do you think I asked that?”

Sokka looked cautious, but he moved to sit, as far away from Zuko’s alchemy supplies as possible in the tight quarters. “Because I’m highly prone to wandering?” Even while scared, Sokka would remain sarcastic it seemed. Zuko tried not to let it amuse him. The other was brave because he was ignorant, nothing more. 

“I’m more concerned about what the crew might do if they get drunk at the funeral. I doubt you would wander over the side of the ship on your own.” Zuko doubted they would seriously injure him, but firebending meant falling overboard was only dangerous if one was wearing armor or no one noticed. Drunken crew members missing friends might feel the need to show the tribesman just how dangerous arctic water was. And a dunking wouldn’t cause any permanent harm, probably.

Sokka sobered. “I-I’ll just stay here the whole time?” Zuko wondered if he’d pick up on just how reluctant the crew was to approach their prince’s room.

“Convince me that it is a good idea to leave you, unguarded, in a room full of dangerous chemicals.” Zuko said, checking the time. It was about time for him to lower the heat on two of his experiments, and douse a third in water.

“Because I’m really handsome, and damaging this face would be an offence to the spirits?” Sokka suggested, before looking at Zuko and paling. “Not that -I didn’t mean…”

Unconsciously, Zuko’s hand reached up to cover the scar. “Why else?” he growled.

“Um, uh, because I gave my word I would do what you said. Also, I really don’t want to die a horrible death by unknown poison,” Sokka sounded honest, if terrified.

Zuko gave him some time to think about that, letting him sweat over what might happen. He took the time to deal with all of his experiments before looking up. The masters of alchemy had been sticklers for preventative action. So Zuko turned off the ship safe burners on projects that could be saved, and moved the flammables away from the flasks that had to stay hot.

“Fine, but if you break your word, I’ll be testing my shirshu darts on you.” Zuko said, holding up darts with a needle bigger than any he’d seen in the Fire Nation. He locked it away afterwards. Sokka probably wouldn’t try anything, but those darts hurt, and Zuko hadn’t built up near the tolerance he’d hoped for.

“I’m a water tribesman, I don’t break my word,” Sokka said, and Zuko began to wonder if this wasn’t going to end in disaster afterall. Then he left for what would probably rank on his list of horrible evenings. 

He’d look forward to telling Sokka that he had to work for his keep when he got back. That promised to be entertaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter Sokka meets the Dragon of the West. Anyone care to guess how that goes?


	4. Tea

As the door closed behind the firebender, Sokka made for the bathroom like a polar bear-wolf was after him. The bender might be crazy enough to wear explosives in his pants, but Gran-gran had always said that that sort of thing would sort itself out in a few generations. Sokka hadn’t known to take her words so literally. 

Pulling on still wet and cold pants had never been more appealing. Katara had always been able to pull the water out of his clothes when necessary. But she was gone now, with the Avatar, hopefully on their way to the North Pole. Katara had mentioned that they both wanted to train there, on the nail biting flight earlier.

After a moment of consideration, Sokka kept the vest, the parka still had to dry and the ship was hot besides. The change had taken only a few minutes, leaving Sokka with nothing to do. He had no way of knowing when the other would return, and had promised not to touch a thing.

Then again, he had never promised not to look, and knowing what the Fire Nation made could be useful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zuko’s room was utterly, unabashedly boring.

Underneath the mess of powders, plants, and containers Sokka couldn’t bring himself to touch, there was a bed, a table, and endless white drifts of scrolls sealed with wax. That was it.

He was about to start prying open the letters, when the door opened again. Sokka jumped back, hiding his hands behind his back. It was the older firebender, the one who Sokka had seen change a frozen firebender into a steaming one with a few deep breaths.

He was carrying a tea set.

“Ah, good day, young warrior,” the man said. “May I join you?”

Sokka nodded. The man didn’t look angry. Nor did he seem to feel the awkwardness that hovered in the room as the fire bender cleared a table of papers and began to prepare a pot of tea.

“Um, who are you?” Sokka asked, when it became clear that the man had no intention of speaking.

“You can call me Iroh, I’m Zuko’s uncle.”

Huh, Sokka thought, so angry fire boy is named Zuko. He nodded, “I am Sokka of the Southern Water Tribes.”

“Well met,” Iroh said. “I had hoped you would join me for tea.”

Not a question, Sokka noticed, but nor was it an order, which could be refused. It was simply a suggestion. Sokka felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up. This man was dangerous.

“I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with most tea,” Sokka said. It was true, the only teas the water tribes used were medicinal, and tasted like reindeer-yak piss.

“Ah,” Iroh smiled. “It is always a treat to share the joys of tea with someone for the first time. Have no fear, I brought some honey just in case.”

Sokka watched as Iroh heated the teapot with a touch and lowered the tiny pouch of leaves into the water. The smell was not quite enough to cover the bitterness of Zuko’s projects, but it made the smell into something more pleasant.

“The true art of tea goes far beyond the simple pot. These leaves were gathered by a family near the Foggy Swamp who have owned the land for generations. They were then bought by an old friend of mine, who had them flown to me by eagle-hawk. Each step may appear insignificant, but the end is truly a marvel to experience,” Iroh said. Sokka was reminded of his father’s warning; people who can talk about nothing will never want nothing from you.

Luckily, Iroh seemed to be done for the moment, and with the rustle of sleeves, he lifted the pot, pouring two cups. The first he left as it was, while to the second he added more honey than Sokka had ever had in his life. 

“Tea is something of an acquired taste,” Iroh allowed as he moved the cup closer to Sokka. Sokka took a sip, and set the teacup down. It didn’t taste particularly bad, but it was burning hot. And it didn’t taste good.

Sokka could feel it sink to his stomach, and he wondered if it was possible to burn from the inside out. Iroh gave no sign he noticed his distress. 

“I hope my nephew is treating you well? He can be thoughtless sometimes,” Iroh said, voice a whisper that forced Sokka to lean close to hear. “I fear that he forgets people can be hurt by what he says and does.”

Sokka frowned. Zuko had been curt, there was no denying that. But his uncle had shown up behind his back and suggested that Zuko was worse than true. Sokka had seen people banished from the tribe for the same. They were the kind of person no one could trust when winter came.

“He has offered every consideration,” Sokka answered, weighing each word. He wanted this man to leave and fast. 

“Ah, it does an old man’s heart good to hear that,” Iroh settled further into his cushion. “I worry for him, growing up alone on a ship with only old sailors to teach him, you could help him immensely.” 

Sokka could hear what Iroh was saying and he wanted no place in the struggle between family. “He seems fine to me,” Sokka said. “And he has his uncle to guide him,” he added, because while Sokka may not believe in flattery, it did get things done.

“You are perhaps overly generous,” Iroh said, taking a deep sip of his tea. He waited until Sokka had done the same before continuing. “I do the best I can, but my nephew is nothing if not stubborn.”

Sokka forced another sip of tea down. It had cooled enough that it was no longer painful, moving instead to an offensively bland taste that had Sokka reaching for one of the little cookies provided. “Thank you for the tea,” he said, dropping the niceties in hopes Iroh would leave before he was forced to drink the entire cup.

“You like it?” Iroh said. “That is excellent, I have made enough for several cups.” There was nothing Sokka could say to that. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before shaking his head and sitting back.

The small of his back brushed against something pointy and Sokka straightened, risking a look behind him. It was a lock box, like his father had kept on his ship for delicate correspondences. Reassured it was not a needle, Sokka looked back at the old man.

Said old man had slid something out of his sleeve and added it to a pile of scrolls that had built up next to the table. If Sokka had spent less time playing cards with Gran-gran, who was an unabashed cheater, he would not have caught the movement at all.

Iroh spoke then, tearing Sokka's attention away. “If you ever have anything you want to talk about, or if my nephew does something foolish, please come find me.”

That was it, Sokka knew. This was why Iroh had come. “Should I feel the urge to talk, you will be the first person I think of,” Sokka said. It was true, he would think of Iroh’s demand every time he chose to ignore it. 

“Thank you,” Irish said. “It was good to speak with you. Everybody benefits from conversations like these, I have found, while without them, you suffer.”

That was a threat, that was very much a threat. Sokka’s mind whirled for a response, but came up with nothing. Iroh had another cup of tea, comfortable as could be. 

They sat there in silence while Sokka forced down another cup of tea and Iroh finished off the pot. As it became clear that Sokka wasn’t going to say anything, Iroh groaned and began to pack. 

His bones creaked as he rose, the noise loud in the cabin. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe. We shall have to talk again soon.”

“Um,” Sokka flailed for an answer, “It was good to meet you. Thank you for the tea.”

With a half smile, Iroh left. The open door allowed the sound of music, sad and slow, into the room before Iroh closed the door. 

Sokka breathed out. And then counted to a hundred before turning back to the room. Biting his scorched tongue, he went straight to the scroll Iroh had tried to sneak in. 

He was in luck, the wax seal had already been cut. It was a letter, written in a sloppy hand. Sokka struggled to read the words. Gran-gran had taught him to read and set him the task of recording her stories so the tribes would remember them after she was gone. He was far better at reading than Katara, thanks to that. But paper was hard to come by, and pelts did not accommodate the flourishes other nations added to their characters.

So Sokka sat there, half an eye on the door as he sounded out the greeting. “May this letter find you in good hee- healt- health, Prince Zuko.” Sokka stopped. 

The jerk with a ponytail was a prince. That was trouble. Even the water tribes had heard of the banished prince and his mockery of a task. Mostly to show just how foolish the Fire Nation was, sending their Alchemist Prince away.

But Sokka was in the workshop of the prince made famous for turning fireworks into a common commodity. Even the water tribe had bought a few, to celebrate the winter solstice.

He ran a hand over Zuko’s vest, checking for any unusual bulges or weights. There were none. He turned back to the letter. “Your family at the laboratories misses you, but we will be sending a delegation to the Beifong’s of Gaoling in a few months time. If you should happen to find yourself in the area, I heard that Masters San and Aksu will be going.” 

The rest of the letter was scratches, symbols and characters Sokka had seen only when his father was first building his fleet. Alchemy equations Sokka guessed. He skipped the section.

“With much love, Master Gigi,” Sokka read. He put the letter down, a sense of guilt driving him to pace the room. Gran-gran had been strict in her lessons, challenging Sokka any time he suggested a person was anything other than a person. She always said she’d had enough of that with the Northern Water Tribe.

Now, Sokka couldn’t forget that the prince was a person, a person who couldn’t return to the Fire Nation. Who was currently running a funeral while his uncle drank tea.

Contrary to Katara’s assertions, Sokka was not slow. He was just so fast the obvious struggled to catch up with him. If Zuko was the prince, then that made Iroh, “the Dragon of the West,” Sokka said.

He slapped his forehead, hard enough it would remain red for several minutes. “I just refused the Dragon of the West.”

He flopped onto his bed, not trusting his knees. He started breathing in and out, slowing each breath until he no longer felt in danger of losing his breakfast.

Behind his head, the door scraped open, sending his heart racing faster than an owl-hare. He sat up, putting his back to the wall.

Zuko stood in the doorway, scowling at him. “You’re wet.”

“Um, yes, yes I am?” Sokka said, trying to remember if firebenders hated water or something. Oh man, he’d gotten his blankets wet. Sokka jumped off his bed.

“Don’t touch my papers,” the firebender said, giving up in the face of Sokka’s genius response. There was nothing to say to that.

Zuko walked forward, catching himself on the wall as he stumbled. Sokka walked backwards until he felt something else brush against his back. He turned to look. 

“You have far too many jars,” Sokka said, “Just saying.” The preserved eel in the jar bobbed, as if agreeing with him. 

“I do not,” Zuko said, and that was definitely a slur Sokka heard.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, already sure of his answer.

“No,” Zuko snapped, then caught himself against the wall again. “Yes.” He crumpled onto the bed, “I hate being drunk.”

“Then why did you do it?” Sokka asked, looking down at the miserable boy curled into a ball on the bed. He was far removed from the alchemist who’d threatened him with shirshu darts.

“It was a funeral, you have to drink for each of the dead,” Zuko said. Sokka shut his mouth. He didn’t know how many had died, but the way Zuko was currently struggling to unlace his armor, it had been too many.

“Oh,” Sokka said. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Zuko said, chucking his boot across the room to hit the door with the clang of metal striking metal. 

“I didn’t even like them anyways, always complaining or messing with my experiments,” Zuko said, having reached that stage where nothing sounded as good as talking.

“But they were my men and they trusted me,” Zuko said, removing more of his armor as Sokka moved to sit on his already wet bed. “They followed me and they died.”

“That they followed you at all meant they believed, enough to risk their lives,” Sokka said. And how had he gone from fighting to comforting a firebender. A prince no less.

“They didn’t follow me, they followed my uncle,” Zuko said. It was more of a grumble really, Sokka was an expert on the distinction.

“Your uncle is crazy, but he’s still following you, doesn’t that mean something?” Sokka asked.

The prince didn’t seem to get Sokka’s point. “You met my uncle?”

“He really likes tea,” Sokka said. It wasn’t a lie, quite, just a reframing of what happened. Calling Zuko’s uncle terrifying might not be the best thing to do while shipbound.

Zuko grunted in vague agreement, kicking the last of his armor to the ground. Sokka was mildly impressed the other was still coherent, with how much focus he had to put into standing upright.

Then Zuko pulled his shirt over his head and Sokka was immediately distracted. Not by the abs, which on any other day would have seen Sokka demanding to know how he got them. No, it was the other things on his torso that made Sokka pause.

Zuko’s torso was a massive bruise, splotches of purple covering his chest, while his palms were red and raw. Sokka could see lines of red where glass had been embedded in the back of Zuko’s forearms, likely from a bottle similar to the one Zuko had removed from the vest earlier.

In short, Zuko looked like he should have collapsed five hours ago, and not moved since.

“What happened?” Sokka asked. Zuko looked down like he had just noticed the bruise.

“The Avatar,” he said. And went to a well worn chest and began to remove bandages, salves and a packet of red leaves that had been sealed in an airtight jar.

“Aang?” Sokka asked, trying to picture the boy he knew doing something like that.

Zuko grunted, and began to smear the minty green salve over the worst of the bruising. He hissed, as he had to brace himself against the wall to reach a bruise that was closer to his back than his chest.

Sokka made his decision. “Here,” he said, holding out his hand for the box of salve. “Turn around.”

Zuko looked at him, one eye narrowing to match the other. But he didn’t say anything, just stood there, swaying slightly as he watched Sokka fidget.

Finally, he seemed to reach a conclusion, and handed the box over. It was lighter than Sokka had expected, more air than anything else in the paste. Zuko shifted, just a bit, allowing Sokka to see his back, where the pattern of bruises was disturbingly symmetric. 

Sokka found his eyes drawn to the back of the armor, and back at Zuko, where each buckle had lain was a bruise, marching down Zuko’s back in two rows along his spine.

Zuko’s glare had Sokka biting back the questions that rose up. Instead, Sokka stuck a pair of fingers in the salve, and moved to spread it across Zuko’s side, his moves measured and slow.

Zuko’s skin was warm, hot enough to heat the salve up the moment it touched his skin. Sokka couldn’t ignore the thought that this was the first time he had touched someone from outside of his tribe.

Were he Katara, that would be the moment when Sokka panicked or tried to fight the evil fire nation prince. But Sokka had been raised as the next likely chief of his generation, and Gran-gran had not tolerated him skipping lessons the way Katara did. Sokka had heard the old taboo stories, back when crew of water and fire had lived and sold on the same sea, before the Earth Kingdoms had opened their borders to trade.

Sokka had been told about how after the raids, a man who’d introduced himself as Piandao had visited, bringing gold and goods the water tribes could not produce. He’d been told how the fire nation ship near the village had been ‘defeated’ without a single death.

It didn’t erase the death of his mother, or the village left to die without the men who’d gone to face their mortality in battle, but it mattered. 

This prince had been banished. That could only come as a recommendation to the rest of the world. Not that Sokka would advertise his understanding of politics.

“I didn’t think I’d find the Avatar,” Zuko said, oblivious to Sokka’s discomfort. “It was just a way to keep Zula loyal, to know at any moment she could lose her crown if the Fire- Father called me back.”

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that. So he said nothing and continued spreading the salve across Zuko’s back. Zuko twitched, but otherwise didn’t react, as if the pain was not worth his attention. He grew focused again once it came time to wrap the wounds, insisting they lay a certain way. Sokka could see the pattern, the linen was lined up so that even a person looking for injury would not spot the wrappings.

Wounds treated, Zuko looked at Sokka, eyes growing clearer, and then at the jar of red leaves he’d tossed onto the mattress. “I’m intoxicated, aren't I?”

“Yup,” Sokka said.

“Damn,” Zuko said, “Watch these for me,” he handed Sokka the jar, “and don’t let me try to use them.”

“What are they?” Sokka asked, shaking the jar. The leaves fluttered inside, nothing special but for the color.

“A powerful pain medication, it reacts poorly with alcohol,” Zuko said. 

“And why am I watching it?” Sokka asked, looking at the jar with interest. Pain removers were pricey.

“Because I don’t want to be so desperate I risk it later tonight.” Zuko was an honest drunk it seemed. And in quite a bit of pain.

“Fine, I’ll watch it so long as you tell me where we are going,” Sokka said, crouching down to roll the jar under his bed.

Zuko didn’t blink as he swayed on his feet. “Going to South Port for supplies, then wherever there are sightings of the Avatar.” By the time the sentence had reached its end, Zuko had leaned back and was lying on the bed, breathing slow.

After a moment’s consideration, Sokka tugged off his wet pants and did the same, readying to spend the night awake. He’d never spend the night apart from Katara and Gran-gran before.

Zuko exhaled in a sharp burst and the candles around the room flickered away, leaving the room dark. From the shadows cast by a faintly glowing crystal, Sokka could just make out Zuko’s face as he muttered what might have been a thanks. He looked tired and so very alone in the utilitarian bed in the isolated cabin on the quiet ocean. 

Sokka wisely went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: 
> 
> "Don't they kill firebenders on Kyoshi Island?"
> 
> "Only if they know you're a firebender."
> 
> "I kind of think the giant warship gives it away... -oh."
> 
> So, what did you guys think? Any favorite parts?


	5. The Southern Air Temple

On the journey to South Port, Sokka learned several things. He learned that the crew liked a hungover Zuko, because it meant a quiet Zuko. He learned that a quiet Zuko was a dangerous Zuko, because it meant he spent the next few days mixing powders and bits of dead animals until they exploded. 

Sokka also learned that when things started exploding, Sokka would be sent to help with laundry. He’d been worried, as Iroh led him to the room, that it would end poorly. Then Iroh had sent him inside with an admonishment for the other men to go easy on the boy whose culture doesn’t tend towards regular laundry. 

“You don’t wash?” a crewman, Ma or something, said. His voice conveyed the undertone of _filthy barbarian_ clear as a shard of ice. Sharp as a shard of ice as well.

“We wash,” Sokka began, ready to defend his tribe. “It just is easier to make new clothes than wash hides generally. And wet clothes will freeze solid in winter.”

The other crewman, a firebender named Fujima, looked up from where he was heating the water “What’s it like, living on ice?” The older man, snorted and left the room before the question had faded from the air.

“Miserably cold, as any fool could tell you,” Ma said as he slammed the door shut. Sokka was pretty sure he was trying to avoid doing the work more than anything.

“It does get cold,” Sokka told Fujima. It was going to be a delicate balance, showing the good of his home without reminders of what had happened to the dead. “But winters are special. Since no one wants to go outside, we tell stories and play games and work on projects all together around the fire.” Sokka thought the fire would be a nice touch, a way to make his world familiar.

Indeed, Fujima brightened, and carried the barrel of nice, hot water closer. “Back home we celebrate Fuyo No Shi, the day winter starts to die and the days get longer. Everyone takes part, and you spend the whole night outside, with lanterns and fireworks, holding back the darkness to awaken the sun.” Fujima paused to laugh. “If you fall asleep, you wake up with a star kiss.”

“Star kiss?” Sokka asked, trying to picture so many lanterns the night was made bright. The water tribes could never justify wasting fuel like that.

“The children are tasked with painting a star on your forehead while you sleep,” Fujima said, “The last time I was home I got to paint one on the village elder herself.”

“I thought that was something the children did,” Sokka said, wrestling with a stained collar that would not get clean.

“I was a child at the time, two months away from turning sixteen,” Fujima said, voice growing soft. 

Sokka looked at the unformed firebender who had to be at least in his early twenties; he changed the subject. “Did you know, the water tribes don’t have a set age for becoming a man, we go ice dodging instead.”

“You go what?” Fujima asked, flash drying a shirt such that he was surrounded by a puff of steam as his hands passed over the fabric.

“Ice doding. When the oceans start to melt anyone who wants to try may attempt to guide a one man canoe through the ice. The flash currents make it tricky, but if you make it through you get-”

“Land sighted,” Iroh said from the open doorway. “Sokka, would you like to join me? Seeing the Earth Nation for the first time is an experience you will remember for the rest of your life.”

 _And you are not attempting to have me correlate the good experience with you at all, are you, Dragon of the West,_ Sokka thought. “I would, thank you,” he said, setting down the under armour he had not yet even begun to understand how to wash.

Halfway to the door he paused, “Fujima, are you good if I leave, I wouldn’t want to burden you with the polar bear-dog’s share of the work.”

Fujima shook his head. “Go ahead, we’re not really all that big on South Port on this ship.” He looked at Iroh. “Sorry, General.”

“I can not condemn the truth, crewman,” Iroh said with a wink, and bustled Sokka onto the deck. Sokka made the appropriate sounds of awe and appreciation and somehow failed to mention that his father had taken him north before. And taught him how to barter with the best of them.

“General Iroh,” Sokka asked, onced the ship was docked. “Why doesn’t anyone like South Port?”

“Well,” Iroh said, “That is a rather complicated story—that can be succinctly summed up by the man approaching us. Excuse me.” 

Sokka looked at the man approaching them, a balding man who’s spiky sideburns did nothing to hide the fact. He radiated unpleasantness like a fire radiated heat. Vividly aware of the contrasting blue against red his clothes created, Sokka made for Zuko’s room.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Who did you say you saw?” Zuko asked, eyes intent on Sokka. Behind him, a glass vial of something blue was boiling sending splatters of oil up only to hit the floor and sizzle for several seconds longer than it had any right to.

“How am I supposed to know? He had pointy sideburns, an unpleasant expression, Iroh didn’t seem to like him,” Sokka shrugged as he pulled on one of the prince's spare shirts. The blue shirt didn’t seem like a good idea in the Fire Nation dominated port.

“General Iroh,” Zuko corrected. “Wait, do you mean Commander Zhao?” The prince’s eyes had narrowed and the fire behind him flared and snapped as Zuko turned. 

Sokka raised an eyebrow, “How should I know?” Baiting the prince had become an enjoyable pastime, once it had been established that the worst that would happen was a trickle of smoke escaping the firebender’s fists.

“By Agni’s eclipse,” Zuko said, and stomped out of the room, calling for Captain Jee as he went. For lack of something better to do, Sokka followed him.

“Uncle,” Zuko called, having made it to the control room with all haste. “What is happening?”

“Nothing, my prince,” Iroh said, with a wince Zuko had to have seen. “Commander Zhao has come to welcome us,” Iroh paused and a crewman behind Zuko raised his hands to his ears in preparation. “Personally.”

“Jee,” Zuko yelled as Iroh raised his voice and called for “Captain Jee.” 

Sokka added a, very manly, shriek of his own to the din as the sought after man spoke from directly behind him. “Yes, my princes?”

“See to it that the necessary elements of tea are arranged,” Iron said. “I imagine Zhao is eager to discuss politics with us. Zuko, would you like to see about finding the supplies we shall need.”

Sokka winced and Jee’s armor creeked at Iroh’s words. It was obvious now, why the two royals had not spoken much on the trip north. 

“I would ask you to desist in your attempt at managing me, Uncle,” Zuko said, “Captain Jee, please see to the tea and ensure that we are ready to leave within the hour, once we have delivered news of the Avatar’s return.”

“The supplies?” Jee asked, face impassive as he watched Sokka edge away.

“Kyoshi has better deals,” Zuko said. “And items I can’t find elsewhere.”

“Kyoshi likes to kill firebenders, as you well know,” Jee said, “And your crew likes shore leave.”

Zuko opened his mouth. “We can have a longer shore leave after I restock at Kyoshi,” Iroh said. Zuko huffed and Sokka saw his jaw clench before he turned back to Iroh.

“Captain Jee, have one of my men deliver this to Secretary Lee,” Zuko handed a scroll over, “Then plot a course to Kyoshi and whatever port you like for a week of shore leave after that. We leave as soon as Zhao’s been dealt with.”

“A week?” Iroh asked, “Don’t you want to pursue the Avatar?”

“Only a fool expects the Avatar to stay near the shore when the person hunting him is shipbound,” Zuko said, “Did you see his sky bison?”

“Captain, your highnesses,” another person burst into the room. “Zhao is requesting to board. What should we do?”

The last time Sokka had seen a room go tense like that, a skunk-fox had wandered into one of the igloos. “I’ll get the tea,” Jee said, and vanished out the door behind him. 

“I’ll deal with water tribe,” Zuko said, grabbing Sokka by the arm and pulling him down the corridor. 

Drifting after them, Iroh’s voice could be heard, “I guess that leaves me to greet our guest.” A second slipped by, and then “Crewman San, you will accompany me.”

“If I tell you to stay in our room, would you listen?” Zuko asked, drawing Sokka’s attention.

“Probably not,” Sokka said. “So thank you for not trying to enforce it.”

“Right,” Zuko said, the words coming out a hiss. “Come with me.”

Instead of the sensible question of where they were going, Sokka asked the one that had been bugging him. “What did Zhao do to you?”

“He runs South Port. He tends to claim the docks are full, or supplies are missing, or gives us the rice infested with weevils every chance he gets,” Zuko said. “He also makes such bad tea Uncle had food poisoning.” 

Sokka very carefully did not say what the food _poisoning_ might have been. “And why is he here?”

“Because we got very good at avoiding him,” Zuko said, an endearing hint of pride in his voice. Sokka wanted to laugh. He checked that there was no reason for him not to, and did laugh, chuckling as Zuko turned to look at him in surprise.

“So, where are we going?” Sokka asked, once the ensuing silence had become awkward.

“The kitchens,” Zuko said. “Good spot to eavesdrop. Or so I’ve heard.” It took Sokka a second to catch the probably unintentional joke. 

“You’re letting me listen in?” Sokka asked. Even Hakoda hadn’t allowed that.

“Yes,” Zuko said, “It’s not like the crewmen don’t listen in. So long as you understand that if you are heard, Zhao will do everything he can to hurt you and the rest of your tribe I have no problem.”

“I can be quiet,” Sokka said, his urge to laugh gone. “Thank you for telling me.” The two slipped into one of the nearly empty pantries, the shadows hiding all but the other’s eyes from sight. Until Zuko called a flame to his palm, that was.

“My honor is my nation’s, I will not let that slimy pile of sky bison shit break my promise to you,” Zuko said, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say. “You will not be offered any harm so long as I may avert it.”

“You won’t even know I am there,” Sokka said, taking a seat at the appropriate wall. A glass was pressed into his hand. “Um, what is this for?”

Zuko stopped and looked over his shoulder, before scowling at nothing. “Igloos, right,” he said. “Press the glass to the wall, it amplifies the sound.” Then Zuko was gone, walking around to the other room before Sokka had to come up with a response.

He pressed the glass against the wall, just in to hear an unfamiliar voice, “Will the banished prince be joining us?”

“Our prince had urgent business, he will join us if he can,” Iroh said, and Sokka could picture the deceptive smile that had accompanied the words. 

The knock came then, as if the spirits found the coincidence in good taste. He heard the sound of a door sliding open and Jee announced Zuko, the Alchemist Prince.

The round of greetings was brief, Zuko’s claim that the Avatar had returned sending the rest of the conversation spiraling out of control faster than penguin sledding. And not in the fun way.

“Why should I believe you?” Zhao asked over the clink of china.

Neither prince dignified the question with a response. “This tea is better than the leaf juice I expected, Uncle, what blend is it?”

Sokka nearly put the glass down at the conversation that followed. It was inane to the point of pain and just as Sokka was ready to break the glass, Zhao found an opening. It was about time, too, as far as Sokka was concerned.

“As much as I enjoy a biography on what I eat, I’m afraid I did come here for a reason,” Zhao started, only for Iroh to cheerfully interrupt.

“Ah, yes, we accept your congratulations on finding the Avatar,” Iroh said, and Sokka had to pull away from the wall until he had his breathing back under control. He waited a minute longer, just in case the next thing he heard restarted his silent laughter.

“I’m afraid I cannot allow you to leave so soon,” Jee was saying, “It would be remiss of me to allow our best source of information to go and potentially get themselves killed on a wild platypus-goose chase.”

“Uncle,” Zuko asked as if Zhao was not there, “I am still a prince of the Fire Nation, am I not?”

“You are,” Iroh allowed, and Sokka noticed he had not heard the clatter of teacups for some time now.

“Then why does _Commander_ Zhao appear to believe he can give me orders?”

“I suspect he forgot himself momentarily,” Iroh said, “Although, I never did figure out which tea was supposedly poisonous, so it may not be his fault. Not every firebender can be expected to master basic skills such as burning away poisons without having to think about it.”

“You have offered me grave insult,” Zhao started.

“Do you really think the tea is to blame?” Zuko asked, talking over the commander.

Before Iroh could respond, there was the slap of a hand meeting wood, “I challenge you to an Agni Kai, Prince Zuko.”

There was a sharp inhale and the grating whine of china scraping against itself. Sokka could picture Iroh preparing to say something and stopping at a scowl from Zuko.

“An Agni Kai when no honor is at stake,” Zuko said, “I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse,” Zhao said. “What would the Fire Lord say, to hear you were terrified by the very idea of an Agni Kai?”

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh said, voice quiet enough Sokka strained to hear it.

“I have fought the Avatar until his surrender, are you certain you wish to challenge me?” Zuko said, voice daring Zhao to back down now.

“Again I challenge you, banished prince,” Zhao said. Sokka could feel the heat of the room rise even through the wall.

“I accept,” Zuko said. “The duel shall take place here when the sun reaches its peak, and it shall be an Agni Kai in the order of a dragon’s claws.”

“Claws,” Zhao spat, “Are you so lost from Agni that you would choose steel over flame?”

“Midday will arrive in twenty minutes, I suggest you select your weapon,” Iroh said, somehow implying that if Zhao didn’t, he would not be fighting _one_ Angi Kai.

Zhao protested all the way to the door, but he left. And closed the door more firmly than necessary behind him.

“What were you thinking,” Iroh said, as soon as they were alone. Sokka took the cup away from the wall—it didn’t feel right to take advantage of Zuko’s offer for that.

Still, even through the wall, Sokka could hear the loudest of Iroh’s admonishments.

“Foolish...Childish excuse for a fight...Fire Lord’s ire...get yourself killed.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Zuko’s voice came through the wall.

“So you _planned_ to refuse before accepting,” Iroh’s voice was getting louder. “Is that it?”

“No,” Zuko said, and Sokka rolled his eyes so hard his head turned. Out of the corner of one rolling eye, he saw something red standing in the halfway open door. He whirled around.

Captain Jee was standing there, nodding along to the exclamations that reached them, unperturbed by Sokka’s presence.

“How long have you been there?” Sokka whispered, surprise loosening his hold on his tongue.

“Just after the yelling started,” Jee said, pulling himself into the present with what seemed to be regret. “Prince Zuko left you here?”

“Yup,” Sokka said, “It sounds like he’s going to be there for a while.”

The change in topics was graceless, but it was not meant to be subtle. It was meant to work. “What did he say this time?” Jee asked.

“Accepted an honor duel,” Sokka said, not bothering to hide his disgust. Fighting was only honorable if you were defending your family. To fight for your own glory was, was crude. No tribesman would participate in such a meaningless risk.

“He accepted an Agni Kai,” Jee said, voice on the very edge of a whisper. “That’s it, he’s finally gone mad from the fumes.”

Somehow, Sokka found himself following the captain as he stormed across the ship, barking orders to clear the deck, find a healer, put on the ceremonial armor, you dunce. As Zhao’s men began to arrive, forming the other half of the honor guard, Zuko appeared, a mass of wood and bits of metal weighing down one hand.

He was bare chested with golden bands around his bulging arms, Sokka saw, before Jee pushed him back into the command room, out of sight for anyone on the deck. “Teenagers,” Jee muttered, giving a warning look before going to stand with Iroh on the deck. 

“I can’t wait to tell my mother about this,” a voice said from beside Sokka. Promising himself that he would pay more attention to his surroundings in the future, Sokka dared a glance to the side. It was Fujima, balanced on one of the chairs to get a better view. 

“Tell her about what?” Sokka asked, moving to stand on an identical chair at the other end of the long window.

He didn’t get an answer, as Zhao appeared then, armed with a broadsword far too long for him to wield.

Words were exchanged, too quiet to be heard, and the two moved to opposite sides of the cleared deck and knelt, backs to the other. The soldiers and crewmen spread out along the sides of the space, metal glinting in the sun, off of full helmets and the healers instruments.

“They’re not actually trying to kill each other, are they?” Sokka asked.

Fujima scoffed, “Zhao definitely is, not sure about the prince.”

There was no time for further questions, the two benders rose and turned to face each other across the silent crowd. Zhao moved first, rushing to close the distance, sword trailing behind him.

Zuko didn’t seem to care, simply lifting the wooden jigsaw to his shoulder. Not a second later, something flew away from the prince, faster than an arrow, and Zhao fell with a cry, clutching his shoulder.

It was too far to see what had hit him, but Sokka could see Zuko load another stick into the contraption, wiggling it until it was seated properly. “Do you acknowledge my victory?” he asked, realigning the thing at Zhao.

Zhao saw it too, and after a few long seconds he nodded. “I do.”

“Get off my ship,” Zuko said, already disarming his weapon and turning to go underdeck. 

“...What was that?” Sokka asked, eyes following the contraption as Zuko disappeared down the stairs.

“The crossbow?” Fujima asked. He looked unfairly leery, in Sokka’s opinion. It wasn’t like Sokka didn’t know how to aim, boomerangs were far more challenging to control than a fancy bow. 

Still.

“I want one,” Sokka said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Zuko visits Kyoshi Islands as that odd apothecary, no not the one from Pohai. Sokka plans to enjoy his time as the only boy the youth of Kyoshi are not related to. After all, what are the odds the Avatar would visit the home of his past life in his attempts to hide from the Fire Nation?


	6. Warriors Of Kyoshi

Zuko sat in the small rowboat, watching Sokka painstakingly check the edge on his boomerang. He’d won it back from Zuko, if by winning one meant alternating between asking for it and asking for a chance to take apart the crossbow until Zuko gave up.

“You look ridiculous,” Sokka said, turning to look at the rowboat’s other occupant. “I mean, with the ponytail, you always look ridiculous, but it’s even worse than normal.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Zuko asked, his hand creeping up to rub against his shiny scalp. He knew it was unusual, but it was so practical. After the first time he’d burnt off a lock of hair he’d started searching for past royal hairstyles, and decided on this one when he added the need to care for his eye after the Angi Kai. “I’m not the one who only shaves half my head.”

“It’s a warrior thing, I told you that,” Sokka said, “You, however, have no excuse for that monstrosity.” The other boy gestured at Zuko’s head, where a loose wrap of forest green cloth hid the lack of hair beneath a hat so hideous no one could bear to look at it.

“It’s the perfect disguise,” Zuko said, brushing nonexistent lint off of his dust brown robes. “Just be grateful I’m bringing you along.”

“You said I was only coming because Kyoshi might have a ship headed to the Southern Water Tribes,” Sokka said, an easy wave of his hand admitting that neither of them had believed that.

“Yeah, well,” Zuko started, realizing too late there was no good end for his sentence. “Start rowing would you, we need to get there sometime today.” He looked at the oars, stilled from when Sokka had paused to tease him. 

“I am a man of the Southern Water Tribes, I know how to make a boat go fast,” Sokka said. Zuko resigned himself to an added two hours as he waited for Sokka to realize he was holding the oars backwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooof,” Zuko grunted, bracing himself to hit the ground. He’d forgotten how unpleasant the Kyoshi welcoming committee was. Beside him, Sokka was flailing, one hand firmly tied to his foot behind him. Another second and they were both on the ground, with a girl in a green skirt bending over to blindfold Sokka.

“Suki,” Zuko said, rolling onto his back, crushing his bound hands beneath him. “You know me, can we skip the blindfold.”

“You,” Suki said over the inquisitive sound Sokka made. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” Zuko said, judging if he’d be attacked for doing a kip up. Minimal risk. Zuko kicked his feet up, pulling them down and in as he threw his shoulders up and forwards. He landed on his feet, surrounded by green clad warriors. 

The warriors sighed, one of them pulling a thoroughly hogtied Sokka up as they turned back toward the central village of Kyoshi. “No explosions this time, understand.”

“I shall endeavor to avoid anything of the sort,” Zuko said, reaching out to grab Sokka before he tripped over a tree root. 

“You better,” Suki said, “Or you might be the healer who needs another healer.”

“In my defense, that was almost entirely Apothecary Syu’s fault,” Zuko said, remembering just what had happened. Syu was fine, up until he started foaming at the mouth, which happened whenever he got too excited.

“Right,” one of the other warriors said, and, well, there was nothing Zuko could say to that. Sokka spared him the pain of having to find a response by stubbing his toe hard enough to crack the bark on the root.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he whined, hopping on a single foot until his lack of sight invariably led him to another tree. “Ow.”

Zuko couldn’t have helped the smile spreading across his face if he wanted to. With a twitch of his arm the miniscule razor he’d preemptively hidden up his sleeve fell into his hand. Mindful of the edge, Zuko used the blade to saw through the ropes, taking petty delight in cutting through each layer until the fragments of rope were permanently useless.

Newly freed, he reached out and snagged the back of Sokka’s parka. _Why was Sokka wearing a parka in th--- never mind._ Sokka yelped and flailed for a moment as his momentum was reversed, sending him falling into Zuko’s arms.

“I don’t suppose you would be willing to let him skip the blindfold,” he asked, turning to look at Suki. His overly large hat was gone, leaving him with only the loose wrap that kept falling to one side.

Fixing the irritating thing, Zuko saw Suki give the rope scattered over the ground a pointed look. “I don’t think I will.”

Zuko scowled at her. It was a good scowl, eyebrow drawn in and full of promises of regret in the receivers future. Suki wasn’t lookin his direction. Zuko scowled harder at nothing.

“Fine.” Giving Sokka just enough warning to know he was about to be moved, Zuko bent down and hooked an arm behind Sokka’s knees. He straightened, carrying Sokka’s full weight, and began moving for the village. If he was walking slower than normal, well, it wasn’t like Sokka was an unpleasant burden.

“What are you doing?” Sokka hissed, “What’s going on?”

“The Kyoshi Warriors are fond of capturing visitors,” Zuko said, around a mouthful of fur trim as the water tribesman wriggled in a more comfortable position.

“Then why aren’t you all captured?” Sokka asked.

“They like me,” Zuko said. “Because he has all sorts of nasty things tucked away,” Suki said at the same time.

“Nasty things?” Sokka said, “Oh, you mean like the packages in your pants.” At that Zuko had to stop and marvel at the insanity that had come from Sokka’s mouth. He wasn’t the only one.

“And I just realized what that sounds like, I meant the explody thingy you hide in everything,” Sokka said. His face was so close Zuko could see each cheek’s progression from pink to red. 

“I was referring to the dead animal parts,” Suki said, looking at Zuko the way Uncle did when he was disappointed. Zuko failed to hide his flinch.

“What do you think the explosives are made of?” He asked, bending the truth in a way that would have Uncle sighing or Jee hiding a smile. Most explosives were a simple combination of minerals, mixed in just the right way.

“Beluga-seal fat, fire ant-crab shells and saltpelier,” Sokka responded with a worrying amount of confidence.

“Have you made explosives before?” Zuko asked, and his voice was not shaking Koh-curse it.

“A few times, I stopped once Gran-gran got tired of having to fix holes in the igloo all the time,” Sokka shrugged and settled back into Zuko’s arms. If he were a cat, he would be purring, Zuko thought.

“And you didn’t tell me this before because,” Zuko said, ignoring the spear prodding him towards the tacky statue of Kyoshi in the town square.

“You didn’t ask,” Sokka said, grabbing the front of Zuko’s shirt as he made to set the other down. “What’s going on.”

“We’re deciding if we want to feed you to the unagi or not,” Suki said, with a level of pettiness Zuko would have marveled at any other time. For some reason this time he couldn't, insead turning to reassure Sokka.

“They’re bored and once you prove you aren’t a Fire Nation spy they’ll provide a feast for you to celebrate,” he said. His first time here had been memorable. If it hadn’t been for Uncle’s insistence on making tea for the village elders they might have needed to test if Uncle’s lightning could kill a sea serpent without electrocuting them as well.

“Oh,” Sokka said as the blindfold was whipped off, revealing a town square filled with people dressed in green. “Wait, can’t you just tell I’m not Fire Nation by looking at me?”

“We had to make sure,” Suki said, removing the last of Sokka’s bindings.

She said something else, but Zuko was distracted by the appearance of another teen, this one dressed in green with flecks of foam beginning to appear around his mouth. “I have to go,” Zuko said, “Sokka, be careful and don’t drink any wine they give you. Husband stealing is a common tradition here.”

“What.” He heard Sokka yelp and hurried off before Sokka could realize he was surrounded by young women and men on an island where everyone was related to some degree. For some reason the thought wasn’t as funny as Zuko had pictured on the trip over.

“Apothecary Syu,” he greeted with a grave nod of his head and a genuine smile. Syu shook his hand with unnecessary enthusiasm, more foam building at the corners of his mouth. The man was brilliant, one poor decision involving poisonous mushrooms aside.

“Healer Nobody,” Syu said, “Good to see you, have you brought anything?” Zuko no longer winced at that particular reminder of his inability to think of a false name on the fly and, thankfully, the residents of Kyoshi had long since decided it was a joke they didn’t particularly care to understand.

“Yes,” Zuko said. He continued walking, forcing Syu to jog a few steps to catch up.

“Are you going to explain?” Syu asked, leading the way to his lab, situated well beyond the village limits.

“I might have found the powdered arctic jackalope venom you wanted,” Zuko said. “Did you find the badger mole saliva I asked about.”

“No,” Syu said. “I looked, but saliva has an atrocious shelf life. Say, why did you want it anyways?”

“You know the myths about how they can eat stone?” Zuko asked, following Syu inside his lab. The front half was a shop, filled with ingredients and finished salves along all the walls while a stuffed crocodile-alligator hung from the ceiling.

“Sure, but they’re just myths,” Syu said, making gimme gimme hands until Zuko fished out a bone box and set it on the counter. Syu opened it, one sleeve covering his nose and mouth as he examined the contents.

“I think the saliva might contain a compound that converts stone to a liquid form for a limited period of time,” Zuko said, “at least when combined with a few acids and a good base.”

“That might work,” Syu said, “But have you considered the other effects?”

“Other effects?” Zuko asked, taking a seat on a reasonably clean section of the work table.

Discussion, most enjoyable, was engaged.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had to pause for a moment, as Sokka sprinted past the open door, fleeing the mob of youths chasing him. Zuko would have gone to help him, really, but Syu had figured out how to collect sunleaves without losing their potency, and Zuko needed to know how. And watching Sokka sprint back the way he had come was funny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Syu, Nobody,” a small child edged into the shop, eyes wide. “The Avatar is here.”

“What,” Zuko said, while Syu flopped to the floor, his excitement heralding another fit.

“The Avatar, and his girlfriend are here and they want Shopkeeper Anya’s wares but they don’t have any money,” the child said, switching to trotting as they followed after the two running teenagers.

“Where’s Sokka?” Zuko needed to know.

“The new guy? He said he was going to find you.” No sooner had the child spoken than Sokka appeared, huffing as he stormed over. He had a nasty bruise on his forehead that had not been there before. He was also wearing a dress like the Kyoshi Warriors’.

“What happened?” Zuko asked. Sokka followed his look and covered his face with a growl. 

“Stupid Avatar lost control of his stupid marbles,” Sokka said. Zuko had to wonder if he’d been hit hard enough to merit a concussion. “Anyways, can I borrow your knife?”

Zuko paused, trying to remember if the knife he carried was visible. Syu pushed past him, handing over a knife as Zuko realised why Sokka hadn’t been looking at him.

“Why do you want a knife?” he asked, wondering if this was how Jee felt every day. If so, he had better find a token of thanks for the man, before he jumped ship.

“To kill that no-good, penniless, sister-seducing Avatar,” Sokka said. Zuko choked, and Syu foamed in distress, snatching his knife back. 

“No killing,” the two said at the same time. “Besides, Anya will probably kill them for you if she doesn’t get paid,” Syu added.

“Including Katara?” Sokka asked, facing paling to match Zuko’s. At Syu’s expression he turned to Zuko. “Hey, oh wise and _generous_ friend, would you be willing to give me a loan?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Of course the Avatar would show up here, Zuko thought. Anything else would involve the spirits being nice to him. Of course he’d have to fight the Avatar in one of the few villages that would ignore his Fire Nation appearance where he had no backup but for one clever waterbender whose sister was with the Avatar.

“Maybe I’ll feed him to the unagi,” Sokka mused from beside him, “or just tie him up for the island kids to catch.” Somehow, he made the second option seem worse than the first.

“Katara!” Sokka was off, the advancement of his crewman’s wage held firmly in one hand. Zuko had doubted he would actually remain to earn it, but he hadn’t said anything. If the way Iroh worried was accurate, loaning the Avatar money was objectively better than forcing Sokka to worry his sister was starving.

Indeed, Sokka had thrust the entire collection of coins into Katara’s hand and situated himself between the shopkeeper and Katara. But that was secondary as Zuko caught sight of a flash of yellow and orange. The Avatar was standing there, surrounded by a crowd of people all eager to talk to the boy who’d killed his men.

Zuko only realised his hands had caught fire when Syu’s flailing grew faster, forcing Zuko back into the narrow alleyway and away from the growing crowd. Syu followed, eyes not leaving Zuko.

For once, Syu was deadly serious, not a hint of foam or motion as he leaned against the side of the nearest building. “You’re a firebender.”

“No I’m not,” Zuko said, “It’s a trick, a salve that protects the skin when it catches on fire.”

“I’m not an idiot, Nobody,” Syu said, “You can’t accidentally spread a salve on your hands that magically lights up when you get angry. You’re a firebender.”

“Please,” Zuko said, slumping against the opposite side of the alley. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Tell me who you are,” Syu said, “Tell me or I’ll tell the whole village you’re a firebender.”

“My name is Zuko,” Zuko said, pulling the loose cloth wrapping off his head, “I was exiled from the Fire Nation for refusing to condone the actions of the court.”

“So you’re a highborn,” Syu said, “what are you doing with the tribesman?”

“Avatar has his sister, he insisted he come with me to find them,” Zuko said, “Sister wanted to go with the Avatar, he disapproved I mean.” It was not quite accurate, but close enough that Sokka’s word should match if asked.

“Why’d seeing the Avatar make you, you know,” Syu made a gesture that could indicate anything from seeing a ghost to swatting a fly-gnat.

“He killed my men, people who’d done nothing to him,” Zuko said, tasting smoke on his tongue.

“Okay,” Syu said, voice back to it’s usual chirp. “My silence costs thirty gold.”

“What? That’s it?” Zuko said, already regretting the words. 

“I’m a businessman, Nobody,” Syu said, “You seem like a good person, and I don’t want to lose my best customer. Even if they are the Fire Nation Prince.”

For a second time, Zuko choked on nothing. “You knew?”

Syu grinned, flecks of foam starting to appear, “No, but thank you for confirming it. Now pay up.”

 _Stupid,_ Zuko told himself. That was something Azula would never have fallen for. Also, “I don’t have that much money on me,” Zuko said. “I gave most of it to Sokka.”

“Fine, I want all the alchemy items you have on you,” Syu said, voice friendly even as he asked for items worth twice the original value. 

“But,” Zuko started. “Nevermind.” He pulled out the first few items he came across, sticky bombs, flash paper, a rudimentary water purification stone, and several vials of a finicky Chi replenishing potion.

“Surely that’s not everything,” Syu said.

“One of those vials could go for as much as ten gold, if you know how to sell it,” Zuko said, and Syu started to twitch and foam again as he collected the items.

“You are very lucky I like you,” he said. “You have my silence.”

Speaking of silence, why was it so quiet?

“Where is everyone?” Zuko muttered, already moving back into the market area.

The answer was like a punch to the face. As Zuko was now intimately aware, that was roughly how the unagi’s water attack felt. A water attack that had come from the writhing coils of tail that was currently trying to eat one moronic Avatar. 

Water attack was something of a misnomer, the liquid was more of a very weak acid that burnt like Agni on his scar tissue. “What has that air-for-brains Avatar done now?” Syu wondered, “Tried to attack the unagi?”

“I don’t care,” Zuko said, “How do you calm the unagi?” 

“We normally send whoever angered it out with a boat and instructions on how to reach the mainland. Unagi chases them, only comes back once it has calmed down,” Syu said, as if the callousness of the act was nothing. Compared to the destruction of an entire village, maybe it was.

“The sky bison,” Zuko said, “we need to find the bison.”

“Huge, white flying animal, can’t be that hard to spot,” Syu said, turning in a circle as if the bison was hiding somewhere in the village. Zuko tried to think where a airbenders animal might be, tearing up the livestock pens probably.

“Found it,” Syu said, pointing at the _clean bison_ that was flying from the weavers complex, shedding flowers as it went. Zuko didn’t even want to know.

The two took off running, towards the angry monster that could destroy a village. Uncle was going to have a fit if he learned of this. The bison dove, it’s descent hidden by the forest the boys were approaching. By the time they broke free the bison was flying north, several small figures clinging to its back.

“Sokka,” Zuko said, sand spraying as he skidded to a stop next to the Kyoshi Warriors. “Did you see Sokka get on?”

“Get on what?” a voice asked from behind him. “I still owe you a month’s worth of pay, don’t I?”

“Sokka,” Zuko said, turning to see the other smiling at him, “Sokka.” Dignity be damned, he was going to hug that boy.

It was awkward, neither one of them knew what they were doing and Sokka’s new dress was a little too long, leaving Zuko stepping on the fabric. They broke apart quickly, not quite making eye contact.

“Hey, Nobody,” Suki said, snapping her fan open, “Did you get everything you needed?”

Zuko looked at Syu, and forced a smile, “Yes.”

“Good. You and your boyfriend might want to get a head start, before it gets dark,” Suki said, “Nice hair cut by the way, never seen it on an Earth Native before.”

By Tui and La’s incestuous children, Zuko pulled his fabric head covering back up. “Makes it easier to care for the scar tissue,” he forced out. 

Then he turned and all but dragged Sokka to the rowboat, ignoring how his jaw had gone slack.

“She called me your boyfriend,” Sokka said, once they were on open water.

Zuko didn’t want to think about that, “She knows I’m Fire Nation,” he said.

“Yeah, everyones knows, they just pretend not to,” Sokka said, “Can we go back to the part where they think we’re boyfriends?”

“What about it?” Zuko asked. “Does it have something to do with why you’re wearing a dress?” 

“No,” Sokka said, and loudly, hilariously, refused to talk about anything that had happened on Kyoshi for the rest of the trip home. When they arrived, Zuko went to find Jee, smiling as he heard Sokka realize he’d left his parka back on Kyoshi.

“My boomerang,” Sokka said, sounding as if he’d finally realized the cruelty of the world. Zuko could sympathize.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, tell me my prince, how much money did Syu talk you out of this time,” Captain Jee asked, once Zuko had tracked him to the lower hold, where the man had been holed up with a theater scroll that Zuko hadn’t been able to find for ages.

“He saw me firebending,” Zuko said, taking a small dash of petty delight as Jee spat out the mouthful of fire flakes he’d been eating.

“You what?” Jee said, putting down Zuko’s scroll with a look that made him want to squirm like he was ten years younger.

Zuko started to explain, and for some reason each sentence made Jee frown more, even as he wrapped up the Avatar’s escape and Sokka’s decision to stay. _That was good news, right?_

“Oh spirits. Agni smite me. Please,” Jee begged, breaking into half audible mutterings about suicidal princes and lovestruck teenagers who were hopeless. Zuko had a thought then, a wonderful, make-the-world-feel-shaky thought then.

“You think Suki likes me?” Zuko asked, and took pleasure in the way Jee’s mutters moved faster and higher in pitch, as the man all but fled the room.

Picking up the abandoned bowl of fire flakes, Zuko decidedly did not feel bad about messing with the poor captain. Instead he voiced his new revelation aloud as if saying the words would test their truth, “Jee thinks Sokka likes me.”

That was -that was -that explained a lot of Jee’s actions lately. Also, “Oh Agni, what does _Uncle_ think?”

Taking a moment to swallow the spicy flakes, Zuko resolved to ignore that particular concern, Uncle had stopped trying to set him up on dates years ago, after he threatened to poison himself to get out of dinner. Instead he focused on what Jee had said and the shivery feeling in his gut as he remembered Sokka flushing when Zuko carried him.

“I think I like Sokka,” Zuko told the empty room. 

In the shadows across the hold, a crewman froze where he had been waiting for the prince to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses as to who takes this revelation the best? The worst?
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoyed. Please, let me know what parts you liked best, so I can be inspired by similar ideas.
> 
> Next up:
> 
> A larger diversion from the canon episodes, as Zuko searches for the Avatar in all the wrong (right) places. Episodes will no longer be as closely followed. (Which is saying something, as they aren’t being followed now.)
> 
> _“Wait. Don’t kill him,” Sokka said, lunging to stand in front of Zuko._


	7. The Waterbending Scroll

Two weeks had passed since Zuko realized his feelings for Sokka. Two weeks had also passed since Zuko decided such feelings were inconvenient and should be ignored until a show of interest would not endanger himself or Sokka. That wasn’t to say he planned to ignore Sokka.

“Again,” he ordered, gesturing Captain Jee back. Today was not a day where he felt like sparing the crew. 

“Do I have to?” Sokka whined from across the deck. His delight at the chance to beat up fire nation soldiers had run dry. It had run dry after the first few hours. 

“You said that a water tribesman could do five sets before breakfast,” Zuko reminded the other. “Easily.”

“And they can,” Sokka gasped, struggling back to his feet after a crewman had sent him sprawling. 

Zuko pointedly did not hide his smile. Sokka had made the mistake of telling him how the water tribe warriors would swim laps around the ship, climb back up and spar for a bit before diving back into the water for another round. 

It had sounded like a wonderful training exercise for Zuko to adapt. The sound Captain Jee had made upon being informed was correspondingly wonderful. 

Being a capable commander, Zuko had ensured himself and Sokka were not left out. Salt water was harsh on his scar, so he gave his men the option of sprinting from bow to stern until the last man made it around the ship. 

Surprisingly, no one had taken him up on the offer. 

“This is the last match,” Zuko announced, to ragged sighs from the crew. One of them took a little too long, and found himself standing well ahead of the nearest retreating crewman.

“Thank you for volunteering, Crewman Fujima,” Zuko said, waving for the final round of sparring to begin. At the edge of his vision, Captain Jee looked about to protest, before turning to Sokka with a smile that somehow lacked even a hint of friendliness. It was a smile that said  _ You look like a good punching bag.  _

Zuko turned his halfway-blind eye towards them. Fujima looked at him, leary but not terrified. The matches began.

A few moves later, most of the matches were over, crewmen too exhausted to so much as throw a punch. Fujima overbalanced one the first punch he tried, his own momentum sending him tumbling to the floor. He didn’t try to get up.

Stealing a swallow of an alchemical concoction meant to increase alertness, Zuko forced his own tired legs to take him to the nearest railing. Leaning his weight against the half-wall, Zuko watched as Captain Jee let loose in a way he rarely did.

Sokka wasn’t even trying to fight, all but running backwards to avoid being swung across the deck like a toy in the hand of a toddler mid-tantrum. The man was steaming, water from his swim evaporating off both their clothes, while Jee’s hands never got hot enough to burn.

Iroh moved to stand beside Zuko, ever present cup of tea in his hands. “In the face of a typhoon, the strongest trees have sent their roots deep, while those doomed are hurriedly strapped down in a day,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean,” Zuko said, making no move to stand up from his slouch for the conversation. He hurt, and he knew Jee was drawing this match out to spite him as much as the tribesman who’d inspired it. Once it was over, Zuko would be free to go to his room and not move for an hour or so. And perhaps take a bath.

“Have you considered that you might perhaps be working your men a little too hard?” Iroh said, putting a hand on Zuko’s shoulder.

“This is not too hard,” Zuko lied through his teeth, “besides, we’re making port tomorrow, so they have all shore leave to recover.” He did not add that the following day’s soreness would discourage a good number from seeking out the more frowned upon sources of entertainment on shore leave.

Iroh seemed to catch the intent, turning to look at Zuko with too wise eyes. Zuko did his best to look innocent, frowning out at a crewman who was still sprawled flat across the deck.

“Hmm,” Iroh hummed, turning to watch as Captain Jee caught a good grip on Sokka.

Jee had pulled his arm back, by all appearances ready to strike when he paused. The light in his eyes that followed had even Zuko ducking minutely.

“This is for coming up with such a terrible idea,” Jee said, grabbing Sokka by the collar and lifting. “And this,” he carried Sokka to the side of the ship, “Is for everything else.”

Sokka went over the side of the ship. Zuko frowned, climbing back up the side of the ship was going to  _ hurt. _

Action over, Zuko stepped forward, carefully not showing how much anything hurt. “Crewmen,” he said, “We will make port tomorrow, and your lack of abysmal work today has earned you three days' shore leave. You may speak to Lieutenant Akkio regarding schedules. Dismissed.”

Mutiny averted, Zuko turned and left, pausing only to check that Sokka had made it to the ladder. He was going to take a nap and then start working out his personal budget. The larger ship’s budget had been finished days earlier, a lack of supplies leaving Zuko with free time he needed to fill.

But first, a bath and his bed.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Sokka hurt. It was a good kind of hurt, reminding him of training sessions with his father before he’d left. But it still hurt. And Sokka now had a new, healthy respect for the Captain, that was not at all because the man could be scary when he wanted to be. Okay, maybe a little bit.

Lugging himself over the railing, Sokka slumped to the deck, marveling at the warmth the sun offered in the Earth Kingdom—it wasn’t even summer. 

Around him, crewmen were sprawled similarly, Fujima laying a scant few feet away.

“You okay?” Fujima asked, starting to sit up.

“I am a man of the Southern Water Tribes,” Sokka said, “I could do this all day.”

“Uhuh,” Fujima said, springing easily to his feet, the men around him doing the same.

Sokka’s mouth dropped open. “But...but you couldn’t even throw a punch,” he said dumbly.

“But I could throw the match,” Fujima said, “I fake a loss from exhaustion, and I’m free, my prince is satisfied, and we all are spared another round.”

“You planned this?” Sokka asked.

“Sure did,” another crewman, one of the ones that had done nothing but glare at Sokka since the night of the funeral, said. “You really think a swim round the ship and a few friendly spars is enough to put a woman of the Fire Nation down?”

“You only have to work hard if you get partnered with the prince—or Captain Jee,” Fujima added. It took Sokka’s brain a moment to think through that.

“I wasn’t a challenge?” he demanded, voice rising.

Fujima didn’t say anything. The other crewman laughed. “This is the first time anyone has seen you do anything more strenuous than lifting a laundry bag in weeks,” she said.

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t worry,” she added, tone straddling the line between sympathetic and gleeful, “I’m sure if you start practicing with us you might become a challenge soon.”

Sokka sputtered, unable to find his voice as the crewmen moved for the showers at a slow deliberate walk. Fujima hung back.

“You were faking all of that?” Sokka finally said.

“We only exaggerated a little bit,” Fujima shrugged, “Just enough to ensure we can actually enjoy shore leave.” Being able to walk would be necessary to take shore leave, Sokka supposed.

“Um,” Sokka said, “would you mind helping me up.”

Fujima grinned and hauled Sokka up, muscles visibly trembling. It made Sokka feel a little better.

“Go get changed,” Fujima suggested, joining Sokka in staggering towards the stairs while trying to appear as if he weren’t.

“Now  _ that _ sounds like a good idea,” Sokka said, leaning heavily on the stairs’ banister as he made his way towards Zuko’s cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What Sokka had failed to consider in his single minded determination to get out of his salt encrusted clothing, was that Zuko’s cabin was  _ Zuko’s cabin. _ As in, where Zuko would be going to change.

Luckily, or not a small part of Sokka noted, the prince had thought about that, and the door to the bathroom was all but closed, leaving enough space for sound to carry but nothing more.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes if you want to bathe,” Zuko called almost the moment Sokka shut the door behind him.

“What would you have done if I was your uncle,” Sokka wanted to know.

“Uncle doesn’t come into my rooms,” Zuko said over the sound of water splashing, “the smells disagree with his tea-refined palate.” Alchemy was not a great smelling profession, as Sokka was now intimately aware.

“And if I were Captain Jee?” Sokka said, desperately trying to cling to a point he didn’t know why he’d tried to make in the first place.

“The captain knocks,” Zuko said, effectively ending the conversation.

Having become accustomed to Zuko’s tendency to forget he was having a conversation, Sokka turned back to his cot, pulling his light vest off, a loan from Zuko, and tossing it over the doorknob. The rest of the room had a tendency to catch on fire when Sokka put something down.

Lately though, Zuko’s experiments had been, if not quiet, subdued. Last night Sokka had slept through the entire night without Zuko waking up to take something off a burner or add some dead animal or rock.

“Done,” Zuko said from behind him. Sokka was too tired to jump. He must have been lost in thought for a while, as Zuko’s ridiculous ponytail had been washed, retied and was already halfway dry.

“Great,” he said, moving back into the bathroom and over to the huge tub that took up half the room. A definite perk of rooming with the prince of the Fire Nation.

Stripping quickly, Sokka dumped his clothing on the floor. Somehow, Sokka had taken over laundry on the ship, and after today’s training, there would be quite a bit. So what if he was taking the fact out on a poor inanimate piece of fabric.

Moving to the tub, Sokka stepped in, only to hop right back out, muscles already beginning to protest. 

“Zuko,” Sokka said, certainly not whining, “the water’s  _ cold _ .”

In point of fact, the water was lukewarm, but after living on a Fire Navy ship anywater less than steamy was cold. And of course, firebenders heat their own water. 

“Coming,” Zuko grumbled over the sound of rustling bedding.

“What did you wa-” his voice trailed off into a sound similar to that of a toad-canary choking.

Zuko was already turning his back as Sokka realized the problem. The Fire Nation was full of prudes. What kind of people have an entire set of clothing they use just for sleeping?

“You’re naked,” Zuko said, a heavy, red flush crawling up the back of his neck.

“Not anymore,” Sokka said, wrapping his waiting towel around his waist. It was a shame to get his clean towel all salty, but the hot water was worth it.

Zuko turned around, tensed like he was ready to turn right back around if need be. Sokka raised an eyebrow.

Zuko went red and marched to the tub, sticking his hand into the water. A minute later the water was boiling, and Zuko somehow went even redder.

“If you mention these, I’ll-I’ll toss your boomerang overboard,” he said, hurrying back into their room and returning with a handful of small green balls. Crushed plants of some sort, Sokka guessed. Hey, he was from the south pole, he couldn’t be expected to know all about plants.

Zuko cracked the balls in half, revealing a sappy center, and dropped them into the water. The amount of steam decreased dramatically and the water ceased boiling. 

When he pulled them out, Sokka saw ice crystals glinting where the hot water hadn’t been able to reach in time.

“What are those?” he asked.

“Sugarberry leaves,” Zuko said, “they freeze whenever they’re exposed to fire.” His blush had started to fade, “I would appreciate it if you forgot you saw these.”

“Why?” Sokka asked.

“Because the plant is endangered, and I don’t want it disappearing because people like their drinks iced.”

“People would do that?” Sokka asked, remembering how the tribes melted snow for drinking water. Warm water was a luxury.

“Earth Kingdom nobles who want to show off their wealth in a subtle way,” Zuko said, “Definitely.”

“I could see that,” Sokka said, looking back at the now invitingly warm water.

“I’ll just go now,” Zuko said, following his gaze.

He did as he said, closing the door behind him.

Sokka got into the bath and proceeded to melt into the warm water. He wondered if Katara was having a hard time adjusting to a traveler’s life.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zuko had forgotten how much he disliked shopping. Syu was the exception, someone who used the ingredients they sold. The merchants of Henan cared only for the value and to a lesser extent, the nationality of their buyers. 

For the fifth time, Zuko had gotten into a shouting match with a vendor for trying to cheat him. The man had wanted five  _ gold _ for a box of ground fire-beetle shells. 

“I could get these for a tenth of that at any other port,” Zuko said, preparing to elaborate on the man’s crooked practice for every bystander to hear.

“Then why don’t you go there instead,” the man said, raising his own voice.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Sokka cut in from where he’d been loitering behind Zuko. “Let’s go, I want to see if we can stop by a tailor’s before they close for the day.”

Zuko really didn’t need the shells at the moment, so he nodded, and followed Sokka to the exotics sector.

The stores there were used to rush orders, and had turned the process into an art. Sokka had ordered a few sets of clothing, in a mix of water tribe colors and more neutral ones that could pass as Fire Nation. In less than ten minutes, he had been measured, the prefabricated articles of clothing located, and the money handed over. 

“It should be done in an hour or so,” the tailor told them. “If you want to eat while you wait, may I recommend my sister’s stall, just over yonder.”

“Fried cabbage leaves stuffed with a meat filling,” Zuko read, glancing at Sokka.

“Meat,” Sokka said, answering that question.

Leaving the tailor to her work, the pair walked over to the stall, pausing at the sight of the wild-haired woman standing behind it. 

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said, “I can’t get your order by reading your mind.”

“Something I did not know to be grateful for,” Sokka muttered to Zuko.

Zuko raised his fist as he tried to conceal a burst of laughter. None to well if the glare the vendor leveled at them was any indication.

“Your orders?” she said, pulling a calligraphy brush from behind her ear.

“Two pig-chicken and three lizard-lamb,” Zuko said, guessing at what Sokka would like.

“Five minutes,” she said and turned her back on them.

Zuko made a tactical decision and retreated, tugging Sokka along with him. They found a good spot a bit down the dock, close enough that Zuko could watch for any unwanted additions to their food. Most Fire Nation travelers grew skilled about guessing when their food had an extra glob of saliva.

This time, Zuko didn’t get the chance to confirm his guess, as an equally wild-haired man came storming up to the stall, ranting about cabbages. “That blasted watertribe girl and her little bald friend,” the man trailed off. Beside him, Zuko felt Sokka perk up.

“What happened?” the vendor, who could only be the man’s sister, asked.

“A couple of stupid kids desided to mess with pirates, that’s what happened. Then when the pirates went after them, they used my cabbages to slow them—my cabbages!”

“Excuse me, sir,” Sokka said, speedwalking towards the siblings. “Where was this?”

“Aha,” the cabbage merchant said, spinning to point a bony finger at Sokka, “You, you know the girl, wonderful!”

“Wonderful?” Sokka echoed, spurring Zuko to intervene before the merchant took advantage of the South Pole’s absent economy.

“Why, yes, your sister owes me quite a bit of money for the cabbages she destroyed,” the merchant said, sister moving to pen Sokka in from the other side.

“Now wait a minute,” Sokka said, smile dropping, “I distinctly recall you blaming the pirates for your trouble.”

“No it was the water tribe girl—your sister,” the cabbage merchant said, before Zuko could reach them.

“Oh,” Sokka said, surging forward to stand solidly in front of the man, “so, just because this person—who I still don’t believe did anything wrong by the way—was from the water tribes, I’m automatically related to her. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Well, no, you see,” the cabbage merchant tried. By then, Zuko had caught up with them, standing behind Sokka. He wasn’t about to intervene though, Sokka was taking care of this in a rather entertaining way.

“So, by your logic, you’re Earth Kingdom, and if an Earth Kingdom guy stole my bag the other day I can demand you reimburse me,” Sokka said.

“No, no, no,” the sister said, “No one owes anyone anything here.” She paused, “except for you, young man, you still owe me for the food.” She nodded at Zuko.

“Of course,” Zuko said, pulling out his money pouch. He paused once he had the amount measured out, “Where did this take place may I ask?”

“Two streets down the dock,” the sister gestured, ignoring her brother’s glare. “I hope you find them before those pirates do.”

Zuko took the offered snacks and handed half over to Sokka without conscious thought. “Thank you,” he said, rushing the ending to catch up with Sokka.

“Do you even have a plan?” he asked, shouldering his way through the crowd after Sokka.

“Not yet,” Sokka called over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I start to mess with the timeline in earnest now. As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know what you liked so I can write more.


	8. The Waterbending Scroll II

Sokka’s plans had to be placed on hold for a bit, the tailor caught them right as they were rushing past. Catching the wild-eyed look Sokka directed at both himself and the distant pirate ship, Zuko waved for him to go ahead and turned to deal with the tailor.

“This is twice the amount you told us it would be,” Zuko said, turning to look down his nose at the tailor. He wished he’d taken the time to put on his armor, as she was a good two inches taller than him. Armor always made the height difference less noticeable. Agni-blasted tall Earth Kingdom people.

“Do you really want to waste your time arguing with me?” she asked, “I imagine your boyfriend is in quite a bit of trouble, seeing as the pirates didn’t catch the first water tribeman.”

“Why would-” Zuko didn’t finish the question, “Oh—Koh’s thousand faces.”

Sidestepping the disingenuous tailor entirely, Zuko began to push his way down the street, ignoring the yelling behind him. If they got out of this safely he’d deal with the clothes afterwards. If not, it wouldn’t really matter, would it.

He was a good ways closer to the dock when he spotted a familiar face: a face that quickly turned the other way upon noticing him.

“Jee,” Zuko yelled, his voice carrying over the busy street easily.

For a moment it looked as if the man were going to try ignoring him. Luckily, a survival instinct kicked in and the captain turned towards him. “What?” he asked in the resigned tone of a man who knew he wouldn’t not be getting any further leave.

“I need you to get Uncle, Sokka’s gotten into trouble with the pirates over there,” Zuko pointed at the distinctive red sailed ship. “Hurry.”

“What?” Jee said again, sounding more concerned than resigned this time.

“Get Iroh,” Zuko said, and resumed trying to get down the street like a spirit was on his tail. He thought he heard Captain Jee say something else, but he must have been imagining it—there was no way the dignified captain would do something as childish as complain about “why does this always happen to me?”

  
  


~~~~~~~~

  
  


When Zuko finally reached the pirate’s ship, a good twenty minutes had passed since Sokka had left him. Plenty of time for him to say something stupid. Ignoring the glowering pirates, Zuko climbed the gangway, shoes slipping against the water-slicked wood.

“Sokka,” he said, as soon as he’d made it into the main cabin, not sure what to expect but knowing it would be bad.

“Yes?” Sokka asked, from where he stood in a circle of pirates. The  _ relaxed  _ pirates were laughing, one of them reaching over to ruffle Sokka’s hair.

Zuko...Zuko didn’t have any words for this. He felt his jaw start to lower of its own accord and forced his mouth shut. He was an alchemist, it would be a dishonor to his trade to show surprise for anything less than discovering the secret of transmutation.

“Hey,” Sokka was saying, “Hey, are you alright?”

“I feel like I might be missing a few details,” Zuko finally said.

“Oh,” Sokka said, his eyes alight with the kind of unholy joy that Zuko had come to associate with explosions, buckets of water, and boomerangs. “I know these guys, I used to spend the summer with them, before dad left.”

“What?” seemed an appropriate response to that.

“Who’s your friend?” one of the pirates, a big guy with a bigger hat and an iguana-parrot on his shoulder.

“Oh, this is Zuko,” Sokka said, before Zuko could warn him.

“The Alchemist Prince?” the pirate captain said, sliding his jian free with a scape of polished metal.

“Wait!” Sokka said, somehow squirming his way through the pirates to stand in front of Zuko.

The pirates listened, thank Agni. As one, their heads turned back towards Sokka, somehow giving the impression that they were still ready to attack.

“He’s good,” Sokka said, “I’m traveling with him, and I promise he’s an amazing person, nothing like the Fire Lord. He cares about his men, all of them.”

“And are you his man?” one of the pirates asked. He had an accent heavy enough it was impossible for Zuko to tell if the innuendo had been intentional or not. Probably not, if the way Sokka didn’t seem to notice meant anything.

“Yes,” the water tribe boy said, like the question was easy. Zuko tried to ignore the way his heart had started trying to climb up his throat.

“I’m gonna have to hear the story behind that one,” the captain said, but he was already resheathing his sword.

“Another time, I promise,” Sokka said, “but first, have you seen my sister?”

He was met with blank looks and a few twitches that might have been frowns. “Your sister?” one of them ventured.

“She’s traveling with a bald kid, very bouncy?” Sokka said. It was the best description of the Avatar Zuko had heard yet.

“That’s your sister?” the pirate with the heavy accent asked, “She’s a thief.”

“What did she do?” Sokka said. He did not, Zuko noticed, sound surprised.

“She stole an item worth two hundred gold,” the pirate captain said, voice gentler than Zuko would have expected. 

“No,” Sokka said, shaking his head and taking a step back. A step that had him brushing up against Zuko. “She wouldn’t. She...she knows better than that. She wouldn’t steal from a friend of our tribe.”

“Well she did,” a new pirate said. 

“Not intentionally, I am sure,” the captain said, “We didn’t recognise her as Hakoda’s daughter, she may have likewise not recognized us. She never did join us for a summer.”

“Of course not,” Sokka scoffed, “she has no sense of money,” there was a brief pause, “Oh.”

“Do you know where she is now?” Zuko ventured, now that he was relatively certain no one was going to try and kill him. Fire Nation “traitors” were a notoriously twitchy lot. This crew had probably run right round the start of the Southern Raids if Zuko was reading the room correctly.

“Long gone,” the pirate with the accent Zuko couldn’t place said. “Her friend can fly. A glider or something left over from the Air Nomads.”

“What did she take?” Sokka asked, noticeably subdued. Zuko slung an arm over his shoulder and squeezed, just for a moment.

“Collectors’ waterbending scroll,” the captain said, “picked it up from a warship on their way back. Written by Avatar Kuruk himself so they were taking it as a war trophy.”  _ Well,  _ Zuko thought,  _ that explained why the scroll cost enough to feed a large family for a year. _

“Are there any sources of water nearby?” Sokka asked, making no move to step away from Zuko.

“The river,” a few pirates said at once.

“Can this ship sail upriver?” Sokka wondered, and Zuko began to catch on.

“Can an iguana-parrot fly?” the captain said, and the crew scattered.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~

  
  


It was only once they were a good quarter hour up the river that Zuko realized Sokka’s plan had ignored a few details. Details like what the pirates were going to do to his sister once they caught here.

Catching Sokka by one trailing red sleeve, they really needed to pick up his clothes, Zuko dragged the other boy to the front of the deck, hoping the splash of water would at least partially cover their conversation.

“What’s your plan?” he hissed.

“Plan?” Sokka asked.

“For when the  _ pirates  _ catch up to the person who  _ stole  _ from them?” Zuko said.

“I don’t have one,” Sokka said, furrowing his brows, “How valuable was that scroll?”

All of the sudden Zuko was reminded that Sokka was water tribe, he was probably more used to barter than coinage. “It’s worth more money than most people have at any one point in their lives.”

Sokka turned to stare at him. Then at the pirates who were studiously ignoring them. Then back at Zuko. “That is bad. This is bad. What do I do?”

“You’re the idea guy,” Zuko said, “What do you know these guys want?”

“Money,” Sokka said, “they’re pirates. I know them because they tried to steal our stuff and once they lost tried to buy it.”

“You’re having me on, aren't you?” Zuko said.

“No, I swear to La, they just went back to their ship and asked if we would be interested in a good faith exchange.”

“And your father agreed?” Zuko tried to imagine the Fire Lord doing something like that. He couldn’t even picture—okay, he could picture Iroh trying something like that, as part of a master plan.

“Bato, his second, thought it was hilarious,” Sokka said, as if that was normal, “Since they had only tried to intimidate us, dad was willing to give it a chance, and well, the pirates had fairer prices than anyone else would give the water tribes, so it just grew from there.”

“Agni,” Zuko muttered, “It’s not just you. Your whole tribe is crazy.”

“Nope,” Soka said, popping the p, “You’re just from a nation of prudes.”

“Am not,” Zuko said.

“Then why do you have special clothes for swimming,” Sokka asked, “All the other nations have no problems stripping down.

“That’s because the Fire Nation is hot,” Zuko said, feeling like the conversation had slipped away from him somewhere. “In the middle of summer most villagers wear nothing but their swimming suits.”

“You have a special set of clothes for sleeping,” Sokka said.

“I’m a prince,” Zuko defended himself. “It’s different.

“So am I,” Sokka said, “and it doesn’t make any difference to my wardrobe.”

“You’re a prince?” Zuko said, “I thought the water tribes elected their chiefs based on skill.”

“Are you saying I’m not skilled?” Sokka asked, voice growing meek.

“Not at all,” Zuko said, “I’m saying that you weren’t born with the expectation that you would rule several million people one day.” And wasn’t this a conversation Zuko wished would end.

“I was expected to be chief,” Sokka said, before taking a deep breath. “But I can see your point. Going back to our original point, The only thing they would want is money, or something they can turn into money.”

Zuko paused then, a wonderful, wonderful thought having appeared.

“Um, Zuko,” Sokka said, “you know your smile is kind of freaking me out.”

“Sorry,” Zuko said immediately, one hand coming to cover his bad eye as he returned to his customary scowl.

“No need to apologize,” Sokka said, awkwardly reaching out and tugging Zuko’s hand down. “Now share, what were you thinking?”

“How would they feel about a few interesting facts about Commander Zhao?” Zuko asked.

“Like what?” Sokka asked, blue eyes suddenly very close to Zuko’s face.

“Like how he pays extra every time he visits a brothel, to ensure no one finds out he drinks so much he can’t  _ perform, _ ” Zuko said. 

“That is perfect,” Sokka said, “but how do you know that?”

“Where do you think my men go on leave?” Zuko said, “Besides, madams are generally good for their money when it comes to selling alchemical potions.”

“You go to brothels to earn money,” Sokka said, and Zuko’s sense of danger belatedly began to flare up.

“Don’t you dare phrase it like that,” Zuko said, already picturing Iroh trying to question him about whatever rumor reached him over a cup of tea. The image ensured that any last remaining tolerance for tea died a swift death.

“Prude,” Sokka said. Then he took a closer look at Zuko, “But don’t worry, I won’t talk about this to anyone without your permission.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said, catching sight of a flash of yellow along the river band.

He wasn’t the only one, and in less than a minute every free crewmember was plastered along the railing staring at the first open display of waterbending the Earth Kingdom had seen in a decade.

It was nothing like the elaborate fire dances Zuko had grown up watching. It was fumbling and ended up soaking the girl, Katara, Zuko recalled from Sokka’s stories, more often than not. Zuko felt ill just looking at it.

“I’m going to wait below deck,” Zuko got out, already hurrying across the deck. Somehow, he hadn’t made the connection between Sokka’s beloved sister and the waterbending warrior he’d met.

“Why,” Sokka started just as the crackle of water freezing reached them. “Um, okay, I understand.”

“Thank you,” Zuko said, and started moving faster, an odd feeling when the small ship was moving directly opposite him.

Somehow, Zuko ended up outside the pirate captain’s cabin, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up in a way he hadn’t done for years. Since his mother left.

It was there that the captain found him. Or rather, his iguana-parrot found him. The captain appeared a few minutes after the bird, walking up to his room with a forced calmness that Zuko recognized from when Iroh woke Jee up before sunrise so that he and Zuko could “try this new cup of tea.” Zuko wondered if it was a trait all captains acquired.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, and yes, that man was most certainly angry. 

“I can’t,” Zuko said, shifting into a proper meditation stance, crossed legs and palms draped across his knees. “I can’t deal with her. If I’m in the way, just let me know where else I can go.”

“You’re not in the way,” the captain said, “what happened?”

The question was frankly asked, none of the skating around or morbid curiosity that such questions usually carried. That was probably why Zuko told the stranger.

“She killed my men,” he said, “She killed my men by accident because she didn’t think things through.”

“Hmm,” the pirate said, acknowledging what he had said without any of the niceties. “Why are you letting that go?”

“Why are you letting her go?” Zuko said.

“I see Sokka’s made quite an impact on you too,” the man said and it was not a question. “I have a meditation candle in my office if you want to wait there.”

Zuko nodded his thanks as the captain pretended not to see it. A moment later the man was gone, headed back up to join his men. Zuko went into his cabin, instantly spotting the candle. It was the nice kind, one that the non-bending fire sages would use. Around it was an altar to Agni, a simple wall hanging placed directly opposite the cabin’s miniscule window. Zuko sat down and focused on his breathing.

  
  


~~~~~~~

  
  


It was Iroh who found him there. Almost as soon as Zuko saw his uncle, he understood what had happened. The glaring pirates behind him may have helped.

Zuko was spared having to figure out what to say by Iroh pulling him into a hug. “You’re alright,” he said, holding Zuko far tighter than a hug dictated.

“I’m fine, Uncle,” Zuko said, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I admit that I would like to know what you were thinking,” Jee said from behind Iroh.

“Sokka heard his sister was in trouble with pirates, and by the time we figure out what was going on, I’d already run into you,” Zuko said, snuffing the light and rising in a subtle attempt to delay the rest of the questioning until he did not have an audience.

Jee huffed but allowed it, “I regret to inform you, the Avatar has escaped, sir.”

“Did you get the scroll?” Zuko asked the room at large.

“Yes,” the captain said, “Sokka did a fine job sorting that mess out, a credit to his father that one.”

“Where is Sokka?” Zuko asked, having taken a bit to recognise where his unease had originated. “He didn’t go with the Avatar, did he?”

“No,” Jee said, looking as if he’d caught a whiff of curdled cow-cat milk, “He’s saying his goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Zuko most certainly did not yelp.

“To the pi- these traders,” Jee said, “whom he somehow knows because that boy is a magnet for trouble.”

“That he is,” Zuko said, with what felt like a stupid smile on his face. He immediately corrected it, just in time as Crewman Ma was waiting on deck along with a handful of others.

His men were obviously tense in a way that they hadn’t been since Iroh had tactfully let slip that their princes didn’t stand on ceremony back when Zuko had been freshly banished. Perhaps to make up for all his earlier thoughtlessness, this time he came up with the reason immediately. Men who had once been Fire Nation citizens tended to avoid the military like the military avoided latrine duty.

“Crewmen Ma, Kozin, and Suka I want to start prepping a pursuit team, the Avatar is close. Everyone else, find something useful to do,” Zuko said. If he were lucky, Ma would delay the teams until the Avatar was well out of range.

As if the thought had conjured him, a ball of dirty white rose from the forest, the sky bison racing away from the river at a clip Zuko’s own ship would struggle to match. “Well,” Zuko said, forcing his voice to snap out in a way that would hurt later, “Get moving.”

They did so, Ma drawing the others into a debate while they were still on the pirate’s ship close enough that he could hear every word. Before Zuko had a chance to move out of earshot, Sokka appeared, followed by the captain.

“Thank you for the information on the Avatar’s location,” Zuko said, “my men will take it from here.”

Bless the spirits, the two noticed the formality and audience and went along with Zuko’s half finished plan.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the captain said, and let a pause grow that seemed to add  _ now get your Fire Nation men off my ship. _

“I really cannot thank you enough,” Iroh added, “Particularly for your attempt to ransom my nephew.”

“What?” Zuko and Sokka said, voices overlapping.

“It was a fine trick,” the captain said, “how did you figure it out?”

“The lack of scorch marks,” Iroh said with a scary smile, and Zuko felt the hairs on the back of his  _ own _ neck start to rise.

It was probably for the best that Sokka chose that moment to interrupt, “Where are my clothes?”

“I didn’t have time to grab them,” Zuko said, “we can do that once we get back.”

“Get back?” Crewman Ma asked, “Did you not want us to pursue the Avatar?”

Back on his own ship, the crewmen around him began to take several steps back as Zuko unleashed several different reason’s worth of anger on a deserving target.

“Are you blind, crewman, or did you just see the giant flying bison fly off and think, well, there’s no way the Avatar would be traveling with his shaggy pet?” Zuko started, every word louder than the one before until all non-essential crew had fled below deck. Zuko would have to apologise to Iroh and Sokka later, but right now he was enjoying himself.

  
  


~~~~~~~

Later, when Zuko asked, Sokka told him that the pirates planned to sell the knowledge of Commander Zhao’s troubles at every port they visited until the information was so dispersed no one needed to buy it.

“I think the gossip might have been worth more than the scroll itself,” Sokka said, “And I got more out of it as well.”

“What did you get?” Zuko asked, meditation candles flaring at the possibilities.

“They volunteered to forward a letter to my dad, for the next time they see him,” Sokka said, “I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.”

“Oh,” Zuko said, not sure what he was supposed to do with this information.

“My father is a bit like Jee you know,” Sokka said.

Somehow, Zuko wound up spending the rest of the night listening to Sokka tell stories about his family and various failed fishing trips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun chapter. I know the pirates are canonically considered Fire Nation, but I didn't see anything saying they were not Fire Nation pirates who left the Fire Nation after seeing what the Southern Raiders did to their Water Tribe partners. And honestly, the picture of Hakoda and young Sokka spending a few summers sailing with a pirate ship would be both hilarious and explain a few things.


	9. Chapter 9

Mail day is a huge event when you spend your time trapped in a tiny boat on an empty ocean. Zuko couldn’t say if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but it was certainly a _thing._ To start with, one of the letters he currently held was written on a thick, expensive paper. A letter sealed with the royal crest.

Iroh had seen the letter as well, and was currently watching Zuko out of the corner of his eye as he collected the tray of outgoing letters. Zuko reminded himself to burn the letter once he’d read it, just in case. His own outgoing letters would be added at the last minute for a similar reason.

However, that wasn’t the only letter of note that time, not that Zuko was sure the other truly qualified as a letter. Inside the paper parcel was a tightly bundled fox-rabbit skin, with each character painstakingly drawn onto the tanned side. Understandable for use in the poles, less so when Zuko knew for a fact that the men of the Southern Water Tribe were in tropic waters where they traded or bought supplies on a regular basis. He chalked it up to nostalgia.

“Oho,” Iroh chuckled, holding up a veritable sack of scrolls, “It seems that pai sho has become more popular since our last mail day.”

“Pai sho is popular?” Sokka asked, looking up from the letter he had yet to open. “I thought it was for old people, you know, like storytelling or medicine.” Almost before he’d finished the sentence, Sokka was ducking an imagined slap to the back of his head.

“Not that there's anything wrong with that,” he said, the wide eyes he turned to Iroh cementing a few of Zuko’s suspicions. If Sokka had ever met tact, it had been a passing acquaintance.

“How dare you,” Iroh said, “Pai sho is a superior game by which all leaders can develop their abilities to…”

Zuko tuned him out, flipping through the handful of letters he held. Aside from the one with the royal seal, there was one from his old masters and three requests for his services in alchemical matters. The last one raised an eyebrow, the Bei Fongs were well known for their excellent business sense, so having them as a referral would greatly increase his chances of making enough to continue keeping his warship running.

“Zuko?” Iroh said, drawing his attention. “I think the other captain is eager to continue, would you like me to send over our mail?”

“Isn’t that Jee’s job,” Zuko said, tucking his letters away and pulling his outgoing ones out of his sleeve.

“Is it?” Captain Jee asked, appearing right before Zuko opened his mouth to yell for him.

“Yes,” Zuko grumbled and handed over the ship’s letters. The captain had the decency to wait until he was out of sight to flip through the letters. 

“Your correspondences have grown,” Iroh said, somehow maneuvering Zuko into the seat opposite him at the pai sho table.

“So have I,” Zuko returned, then held back a wince. The only way to survive a verbal sparring match with Uncle was to speak as little as possible.

“Indeed you have,” Iroh said, “and I notice it has been quite some time since we last had a chance to simply sit and talk. How are you dealing with recent events?”

_Stupid,_ Zuko berated himself, carefully restraining his response to a grunt that could mean anything.

“When I was your age my biggest worries were about sneaking into the kitchens,” Iroh continued blithely. “And yet you are running a warship while chasing what may be the largest threat to the world these modern times have seen.”

“What may?” Zuko echoed, surreptitiously looking for Jee, or anyone, to interrupt them. Captain Jee was nowhere to be found, and Zuko found himself regretting sending the captain away.

“You don’t consider the Avatar a threat,” Iroh said, and something in his voice changed. If only Zuko could figure out what.

“Of course he’s a threat,” Zuko said, spitting smoke, “Leaving him alone would be like leaving a baby firebender alone in the middle of a field of dry grass.”

“Explosive?” Iroh suggested.

“Irresponsible,” Zuko said, remembering when Ozai had done exactly that. It might have been a bad idea to bring that memory up in a conversation he was already losing.

Iroh hummed, relaxing for the first time in the conversation. Somehow, miraculously, Zuko had said something that worked. He decided to call that good enough, and standing, he offered Iroh a silent nod and retreated to his room.

A few doors down from his room, he was stopped short by his own door opening. Sokka was leaving it, arms wrapped around himself and he walked, eyes on his feet. He didn’t spot Zuko until he nearly ran into him.

“Ack,” Sokka choked, bouncing off his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Zuko said, barely keeping the snap out of his voice. A leftover puff of smoke slipped out along with the words.

“Is something wrong?” Sokka asked, backing up a few feet, eyes focused on Zuko’s face. 

Suppressing the urge to cover his eye, Zuko shook his head, and, when Sokka took another step back, forced himself to speak. “It’s —I’m going to go somewhere else, until I can think better.”

“Right,” Sokka said, “That’s fine. No problem, why would that be a problem.”

“Is something wrong?” Zuko asked. Not that he would know what to do if it was, but he thought it was the principle that mattered. Probably.

“No,” Sokka said, “Nope, you go do do whatever you need to do.”

“Okay,” Zuko said, and turned around. The back of his neck prickled all the way down the corridor. Once he was out of sight, however, he relaxed, at least enough to decide upon his course of action.

“Captain Jee,” he yelled, loud enough the nearest seamen winced and faded around the corner.

Shockingly, the captain did not appear out of thin air. It took Zuko five degrees of the sun’s path to find him. Sitting huddled in his cabin, with a bottle of cheap sake in one hand. The wax seal over the lid was untouched.

“What do you want now?” Captain Jee asked, sounding more world weary than curious. 

“What do you do when someone looks upset, but then they say it’s nothing?” Zuko asked.

“You look to Agni,” Jee said, thumbnail running back and forth along the wax. 

“Okay?” Zuko said,starting to retreat towards the door. The crewmen got that way sometimes, sea sickness it was called. Uncle generally let them be, then made sure they got the prime leave when they next made port. 

“Agni and La,” Jee swore, setting the bottle down on his cabin table with a thump. “Come back here and tell me what happened.”

“Sokka seemed fine, then he didn’t,” Zuko said, hovering in the doorway.

“You mean after reading a letter from the father he probably hasn’t seen in years he seems upset,” Jee asked, “What did you say?” Then his face paled and he added a hurried, “My prince.”

“Nothing, I was just trying to go into my room,” Zuko said, feeling a bit like his younger self trying to explain why he should be allowed to keep turtleducks in his room.

“Prince Zuko,” Jee said, “May I speak frankly?”

“I am asking you to,” Zuko said, desperately not thinking about all of the times Jee might have lied to him.

“Would I be correct in assuming that you had intended to read your own letters in the privacy of your cabin?” Jee said, “The cabin Sokka was reading his own letter in?”

“Oh,” Zuko offered, “You’re saying I should focus on tracking the Avatar for the next few hours.”

Jee held his breath for a beat, before letting it rush out. “Close enough,” he said, “Take this with you,” he held out the bottle. Zuko took it and retreated out the door. It probably wasn’t the time to point out that Sokka had been leaving when he ran into him.

  
  


~~~~~~~

  
  


Iroh was waiting for him in the command room. On an entirely unrelated note, Zuko decided he would be better suited to spend the time in the hold.

He read the business letters first, noting down the pertinent details on the back of the paper with his most valuable invention: a self inking brush. All three would require a bit of time, and some of his more rare alchemical components, but he could already start to see how they would work. 

His masters had reiterated their earlier notice of a meeting and sent a warning that a blight had struck many of their hothouses, followed by a request that he send them replacement before the sudden demand drove the price to unreasonable highs. 

Finally, he turned to his last letter, using the dagger Iroh had given him to break the royal seal. There was always a bit of tension opening these letters, some small fear that it would be from Ozai after all. Then he read the customary greeting of “Dum Dum,” and could relax.

> Dum Dum,
> 
> Nothing of interest is happening here, but you already knew that. Or you better have picked up on that. The courtiers were already ready to eat you alive before you left, and living among those savages for so long must have degraded your weak sense of tact into little more than dying sparks.
> 
> Ty Lee has gone in search of herself with the circus, foolish girl, and left the palace even more dreadfully boring that I have become accustomed to. I suggested she send one of her sisters to stay at the palace in her absence, and she burst into tears.
> 
> Recalling your hotheaded nature, I decided it should fall to you to explain why she would do that. I am far too busy brushing up on the rulings of past Fire Lords and Ladies. Did you know that there have been seven individual attempts to start a university in the century before Sozin’s rule? Something to think about once I have mastered firebending.
> 
> The spider silk you sent me was adequate, although it burns too easily for me to wear it as anything but under armour. I arranged for a small addition to your credit in Lǜ Hé Harbor to ensure that you can continue to afford suitable gifts. 
> 
> And remember, I will not stand for you shaming Agni’s Chosen by getting yourself killed.
> 
> Your Sister,
> 
> Princess Azula of the Dragon Throne

Zuko said nothing for a few minutes, reading the letter until he had committed it to memory. The whole letter had been written in a style of calligraphy dating back almost three centuries, Zula had made him learn it back when they were kids. Even so, there was risk in sending a letter like that. 

Cupping a flame in the palm of his hand, he carefully fed the textured paper into it. He’d found his paper’s shuffled about every now and then, and without knowing who it was, he couldn’t risk his little sister’s lone rebellion.

The letter from his masters he kept, because the first time he’d burnt all of his correspondences, Iroh had started telling him about the time he deduced an enemy general’s plans by noticing which of the letters he was expected to receive could not be found. To have nothing questionable is the most suspicious thing there is, the Dragon of the West had told him.

After that, however, he had run out of excuses, and followed a meandering path back to his cabin. The door was unlocked, so he risked entering.

It was immediately obvious that Sokka had been busy. Restless might be a better word.

“Did you lose something?” Zuko asked, looking around at his room. It was neat. His paper’s had been straightened and his scrolls had been stacked into the holder Zuko never bothered with. His too-small armor was properly arrayed on it’s stand, rather than tucked behind it. And finally, Sokka himself was coming out of the bathroom, retying his wolf tail for the second time that day. The mustache he’d been trying to grow for the past week was nowhere to be seen.

“No,” Sokka said.

“Okay,” Zuko said.

“Um,” Sokka said, “So, how’re things?”

“What?” Zuko said, “fine, I think.” 

“Oh,” Sokka said, “That’s good.”

“Was there something you wanted?” Zuko asked.

“Just hear me out,” Sokka started, “And if you decide you don’t want to help, can you promise me to never bring this up again?”

“I promise,” Zuko said. “What is it?”

“I can’t read that,” Sokka blurted out, gesturing at the letter addressed to him. “I don’t know why, but all of the characters are super fancy and it’s nothing like how Dad used to write and it’s not like I had a lot of chances to learn.”

Sokka looked like he was preparing to continue for a good while, probably letting a few more personal details slip as he went. Admittedly, Zuko would be interested in it, but he wanted to learn because Sokka was sharing it with him. Not because he was speaking faster than he could think.

“You are alright with me reading your letter?” he confirmed.

“Yes,” Sokka said, sticking his chin out like he was daring Zuko to challenge him.

“Okay,” Zuko said, and held out his hand.

Sokka handed him the letter, gracelessly tucking what appeared to be sketches up his sleeve as he did so.

Looking at the letter, Zuko immediately understood why Sokka had had trouble. One of the reasons the Fire Nation was winning the war was because they had done away with inherited positions in their military. Even Iroh had had to earn his place. One of the changes this had caused was a simplified set of characters, rather than the ornate set used in court. It was better for everyone to be literate after all. 

The Earth Kingdom had taken a different approach, preferring that only their classically educated commanders could read the orders that sent men to certain death. The calligraphy he was looking at now was spotty. The characters were intricate, but many of the conventions were lost. The effect was rather like reading a novel where none of the dialogue was marked. 

> Sokka,
> 
> Let me start by saying how good it was to receive your letter. I cannot express how many times over these past few years I have wished to be back home, watching you grow up. When those Koh-taken pirates showed up saying they’d seen you in the company of the Prince of the Fire Nation, I swear my heart stopped. 
> 
> I want you to know however, that I trust you. You have always been intelligent, and from what I have heard—I expect to hear the full story as soon as we can arrange a meeting—you had a good reason to leave our home. All I ask is that you stay safe.
> 
> I can’t risk telling you where we are, in case this letter is intercepted, but I have faith that we will find some way to meet before the season turns. If you do find a way to send a letter back, please, tell me how Gran Gran and everyone else in the village is doing. 
> 
> On that note, I have some bad news. Amaruq and Pana are dead. I know that you may have been too young to remember them, but they used to go hunting with us, every summer when the tribes met for trading. Otherwise, we are doing well, although I miss Gran Gran’s cooking more than I will ever admit to that woman. 
> 
> I love you and Katara very much.
> 
> Your Father
> 
> Also, do you know why mentioning Katara has every pirate spitting on my deck? 

  
  


Sokka was crying, Zuko noticed, and felt a rush of rage, that Sokka’s father had dared to hurt him. Then he noticed the smile behind the tears, and the way Sokka was cradling the letter and felt a different kind of rage.

The nasty kind that demanded to know why Ozai had never sent him a letter like that. Why Ozai had burned one eye so badly it would never produce tears again. 

It wasn’t a train of thought that would do Zuko any good. Silently, Zuko stepped around Sokka and into the hallway. Captain Jee wasn’t in any state to deal with him, so he would have to risk Uncle reading something private from him. 

As soon as he reached Uncle’s rooms, he started to shed jars and paper envelopes, Iroh taking over when his fingers started to spark. No soon were they off then Zuko was curling his knees to his chest, Uncle’s hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. He continued even as Zuko’s flame sputtered out of him, superheated sparks and flickers of flames that threatened to burn everything in the room up. Thankfully, Uncle knew how it worked, and quenched each flame before it had a chance to catch.

It wasn’t enough, not when he could hear his men gossiping about how their prince was in another one of his moods, not when he knew he would have to come up with something to tell Sokka. But Uncle would watch him until he could think, and for the next little bit, all Zuko had to do was focus on his breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was mostly set up, I promise the next will be more action.
> 
> I tried to make both letters somewhat awkward, as few people in such situations would be comfortable, or capable, of expressing their feelings eloquently. Let me know what you thought.
> 
> For why Zuko doesn't think anything of crying as a boy, there are a few things. One, the idea that boys don't cry is a modern idea, and I have a hard time imagining that a nation as full of fiery passion would would feel that way about it. (The Fire Lord is another story.) The severity with which he reacts is also characteristic of someone who tries to ignore the pain rather than process. He understands who and what his father is, but that doesn't mean he isn't the man he looked up to and relied on for thirteen some years. Ergo, he can plan logically most of the time, but if he lets himself feel, it tends to hit him worse than someone like Sokka, who deals with feelings as they come up.


End file.
